


Layers

by Cybele2013



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-26
Updated: 2013-03-26
Packaged: 2017-12-06 14:49:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 31,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/736894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cybele2013/pseuds/Cybele2013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is forced by circumstance to return to Hogwarts to teach.  Snape couldn’t be more pleased.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> My response to Snape pursues Harry challenge. This was written sometime after HBP and before JKR spoiled my fun with DH. La Strega betaed and put up with a lot of my whingeing for little in return. All remaining errors are entirely my own.

Harry Potter's arrival at Hogwarts was preceded by the expected rush of owls from parents all over Britain. What wasn't quite expected—what wouldn't have been expected only two months previous, was that most of the letters were Howlers.

_...gone too far this time!_

_What sort of role model will he be for my boys!_

_KEEP THAT PERVERT AWAY FROM MY CHILDREN!_

All Howlers were discreetly forwarded to an abandoned room where they could shriek their complaints at the walls of the dungeon. 

Only one man was around to hear the insults. It brought back memories of his own homecoming, when after the war, and after his innocence had been proven by distilled memories in the late Headmaster's Gringott's vault, the Potions master resumed his former position. 

And now amongst explosions of disbelief and general bigotry, Severus Snape poured a draught of firewhisky and raised a toast to the Boy who Lived, the Chosen One, the soon to be divorcé who's latest accomplishment was to get himself arrested for committing Lewd Acts in a Public Loo.

Oh, how the great go down.

But only Harry bloody Potter could go down so spectacularly. The boy turned man had only ever been exceptional in his remarkable capacity for sticking his nose in inadvisable places. Not even Severus would have expected to find the incorrigible brat nosing about in the male crotches of the Wizarding World. And while Severus would have to admit that it leant a certain something to his former vision of the insolent, foolhardy Gryffindor, a larger part of him was just happy to watch the giant balloon of public opinion deflate.

Severus drained his glass and helped himself to another. He'd threatened to resign when the Headmistress warned him of Potter's impending return. He was gently persuaded to stay with the reminder that gainful employment for a former Death Eater, regardless of verdict, was difficult to find. He recalled shortly after that even if he could find a job, he had no where else to go, his own house having been added to the list of casualties in the war against Darkness. It didn't help that the only people he had ever counted as friends were either dead or in Azkaban thanks to him.

It occurred to him now that suicide was an option, but he'd survived all these years and self-preservation was a hard habit to break.

It would help, he thought, if he were still here under pretence. It had been easier to be a teacher when there was some ulterior motive. But now with the war done and the Dark Lord dead for good, Severus had to come to terms with the fact that his moment of greatness had passed and that the classroom that lay before him day after dreary day was all there was. All there would be.

Severus frowned down at his glass. The smallest hint of insight alighted in his heart that was, by now, grasping for one good reason to go on beating. The barest hint of a smirk crossed his lips.

He'd fallen from his high expectations of power and wealth. But his were mere empty ambitions that, if he thought about it, he'd abandoned over 25 years ago in favour of good intentions and a clear conscience. His own fall – which was really more than a slight step down, was nothing compared to the depths to which Harry Potter – greatness incarnate – had plummeted. 

His smirk grew to a closed-lip smile as he considered that, really, compared to where he'd come from, teaching was a noble profession. A class above the squalor from whence he'd sprung. As he'd never really moved beyond teaching, he could hardly have fallen at all. In fact, from a certain point of view, Severus Snape was a successful wizard.

Potter, on the other hand, had gone from Saviour to Unsavoury in the amount of time it took to say _gulp_. His dramatic plunge from Hero to Whore had landed him in the only place that would take him back: Hogwarts. From Defender Against All Things Dark, to teaching idiots how to defend themselves against Grindylows, Potter's failure was worlds away from Severus' slight disappointment. The two couldn't even be compared really. 

Severus Snape had succeeded in life. James Potter's son had failed spectacularly.

And Severus would be around to see the pieces. Christmas had come early this year.

By the time September the First had dawned, Severus was quite looking forward to the miserable brat's arrival. His enthusiasm soared as he scanned the morning headlines to find "The Secret Life of Harry Potter" on the front page. It featured an interview with one John Grimm, otherwise known as the victim of Potter's perversity.

_"I was afraid, you know? I mean, he's Harry Bleedin' Potter. He killed You-Know-Who. I thought it best to let him do what he wanted."_

_When asked if he thought Potter a good influence for children, Grimm replied, "I wouldn't let him around_ my _boys."_

_The Headmistress of Hogwarts was unavailable for comment..._

Not even Severus in his best of moods could keep from scoffing at the article. Potter was about as intimidating as an angry puffskin and he couldn't help but think that while the brat was decidedly a dunderhead, he wasn't a particularly unattractive one. There would be few in the Wizarding World – men or women – who wouldn't raise their robes for a kneeling Potter.

He stopped that train of thought when he began to wonder if even he would have the will to say no and instead relished at this newest piece of fuel for the fire of Potter's destruction. He could scarcely wipe the smirk off his face when McGonagall entered the room.

"Severus. I was hoping to find you here," she said, making a beeline toward the kettle.

Severus thought to point out that he always took his morning tea in the teacher's lounge and thus she didn't so much _find_ him as deliberately impose upon his peaceful morning routine. He grunted instead and pointedly turned the page of the newspaper.

"I know you're not overly pleased with the prospect of having Mr Potter back in the castle..." she began carefully. She paused to pour a generous amount of milk into her mug. "I know the difficulty of having one's former pupils become colleagues." She offered a meaningful look before filling her mug with tea. "Admittedly, you and I didn't have the history that you and Harry – "

"I am quite capable of professionalism," Severus said. And he was when he wanted to be.

The woman took a seat in a chair in front of him. "Of course, you've never been quite fair when it came to Potter," she said.

Severus glared from above his newspaper. "If you recall, Minerva, I'd had an image to uphold," he pointed out. 

The old woman raised an eyebrow. After a moment, she offered an indulgent smile. "Naturally. And so I'm sure that now that all prior obligations have been removed, you'll do your best to welcome Mr Potter to our staff."

"Naturally," Severus simpered. In fact, he couldn't wait.

"I'm very glad to hear it, Severus. I think you better than any of us can appreciate Potter's circumstances." She sipped her tea.

Severus' eyes narrowed. "And why do you think that, Minerva?" he asked, his tone like sweetened cyanide.

"Well, he's not much older than you were when you began teaching here," she pointed out. The hard look she gave belied her real meaning. They were both taken in as refugees by her good graces and now the old woman was cashing in on her kindness. She set her cup down on the table. It disappeared with a pop to the kitchens.

"As a senior member of staff, I'm counting on you to set a good example of how to put aside personal feelings and act professionally toward your colleagues." 

"I wouldn't dream of acting otherwise," Severus said with a forced smile. 

"I'm glad to hear it, Severus," she smiled and stood to walk toward the door.

Severus pulled a face.  
"Merlin knows I have enough to do without looking after the two of you," she added, turning.

"Whatever I can do to help," Severus muttered bitterly and turned back to his paper.

"Actually, there is something else," the maddening woman said. "Mr Potter's forwarded along a rather large aquarium. Could you go up and make sure it's arrived safely? I'm sure I heard a crash..."

Severus' lips pursed together. A moment later he managed a tight lipped smile. "Naturally."

"The password is Riddikulus," she said. "Thank you, Severus. Enjoy your morning," she said and then left the room.

 

"Good afternoon, Severus," said the woman in the portrait guarding Potter’s chambers. She then went back to the book she was eternally reading. "They give this job to you again?"

"Nan," Severus muttered. He'd never met the old woman who'd died of slow-acting organ-dissolving curse before he was born. But he knew her face and her legacy well. Founder of the Dark Arts for Good society, the woman was a total quack. Brilliant, but mad. Such was the story of his wizarding heritage. "No. This year you'll have the pleasure of hosting Harry Potter," he drawled, surveying the book shelves disinterestedly. They held better works when he'd been here, but that was lifetime ago.

"Potter? That boy? Surely he's not old enough to teach," she said, abandoning the book to stare incredulously.

"It would appear the boy has become a man," Severus said. The lewd smirk that punctuated the statement couldn't be helped. Nor could he help wondering how close he was to the truth.

Adele Pruitt groaned. "I'm getting old, Severus," she complained.

Severus snorted. "You're not getting old, Nan. You're dead," he reminded her.

The portrait looked momentarily affronted, but then gave a thin, wicked smile. "You're right. But you're getting old, aren't you, my boy?" She laughed a high pitch cackling laugh that grated down Severus' spine.

"Hm," said Severus. "Riddikulus," he drawled.

The laughing stopped. The woman gave a disappointed look. "Spoil sport," she pouted before lurching forward to open the door.

Severus walked through the portrait hole into the small sitting room just behind. A faded blue two-seater sofa rested against the wall. A coffee table sat diligently before it. The walls were lined with empty book shelves. 

His rooms were bigger, he thought smugly. He watched the dust settle in the slats of light spilling through the curtains. His rooms were less stuffy. Severus wandered through the rest of the pitifully small quarters, sneering as he found a package of mismatched socks that that infernal house elf had put there to greet the boy, and a rather large aquarium, intact. Finding nothing else particularly interesting, Severus left the rooms and shut the portrait hole behind him.

"Did you curse his sheets?" Adele said with a mischievous smile. 

Severus frowned. "Of course not," he said. Truth be told, it hadn't occurred to him. He wondered if he should do it now. A little welcoming present for his former pupil. 

The portrait's smile faded. "I thought you didn't like the boy," she said.

Severus smirked. "In fact, I'm quite looking forward to his appearance." A wicked thought occurred to him, filling him with a sadistic sense of glee. "There will be a change in the password, Nan."

She raised an eyebrow. Severus knew she wasn't strictly meant to do it, but he was a professor and she could listen to him if she chose to. "Will there?"

"One more appropriate, I think," Severus said. "If the Daily Prophet has its facts straight."

All things considered, it didn't take much to convince the wicked witch. He left the office to her cackling and then went to his own rooms. His first meeting with Potter would promise to be a heated one.

He couldn't wait.

***

Harry's trunk landed with a dull thud that filled the Entrance Hall with ominous echoes. “Home sweet home,” he muttered under his breath and wiped his forehead with his sleeve. It was still better than number 12, where he'd been staying after being kicked out of the flat he shared with the vicious redhead who must not be named.

He looked down as he felt something like a thick, slick rope slide between his legs. The snake hissed her apprehension as she began coiling up Harry's body. 

"You will not be struck by lightening," Harry hissed back, rolling his eyes. "No more than I," he added in English. He understood Nagini's nervousness. Being the Dark Lord's Horcrux was enough to give anyone a bad reputation. Harry knew that well enough.

But that was over now. Nagini was given a rotted soul-free stamp of approval, and Harry's now flesh-coloured, faded scar proved that he was no longer harbouring any bit of Voldemort either. Voldemort existed now in the history books; a subject that would lull future generations to sleep.

Harry looked around the familiar hall, his eyes falling on the approaching figure of the Headmistress. He blushed out of habit. Nagini hissed irritably and Harry petted her head, urging her down from around his leg. "Be good," he warned her.

"Mr Potter," McGonagall called, giving a terse smile. Harry noticed she could not quite meet his eyes. 

"Hello Professor," he greeted, still blushing. For fuck's sake. He was an adult. Adults had sex. Granted, most adults didn't have the sordid details of their sex life plastered on the front page of the Prophet, complete with moving pictures. Harry underlined a former mental note that read: KILL RITA SKEETER.

But the professor was not looking at him at all. Her eyes were rather watching the progress of the snake as it ran figure eights around Harry's feet. Harry looked down and smiled a little. "She's a little sheepish," he explained.

McGonagall gave a disapproving grunt. Harry felt his inner student wither. Another part straightened up in a practiced pose of determination. He understood people's misgivings. This snake had a particularly damning history. Most thought he ought to have killed her when he was destroying Voldemort's soul. Most were lucky enough not to understand her pleas for mercy.

Nagini had been as much Voldemort's victim as Harry had been. And Harry had killed enough.

"I trust you know where your chambers are?" McGonagall said, her face a bit more relaxed, though she seemed determined not to acknowledge the snake.

"Yeah," Harry said and gave a sideways smile that made him appear boyish despite his 25 years.

"Good," McGonagall said. She stepped forward, her hand held out. "Welcome back to Hogwarts, Mr Potter."

Harry's smile grew slightly, the tension in his chest shifting a bit to allow him to take a breath. He stepped carefully over Nagini's thick body and took McGonagall's hand. "Thanks," he said.

She pursed her lips together slightly and tightened her hold before releasing it. "I should warn you that we've had some resistance to this appointment," McGonagall said carefully. "But I think you'll find the students' memories for recent events to be short in comparison to their admiration of the legend." She smiled.

Harry's face went hot again. "Right," he said and dropped his eyes like a reprimanded child. "Thanks," he mumbled.

McGonagall gave a small mirthful snort. "As long as your proclivities do not involve children, Mr Potter, it is neither mine nor anybody else's business. I'll leave you to get settled in now."

McGonagall turned to walk up the steps and paused. "I trust you'll keep your familiar in a safe place," she said in her professor voice. 

Harry frowned and then nodded. "She'll be all right," he said.

"I'm not concerned about her," McGonagall rejoined. 

"I understand," Harry snapped and didn't look at the woman to see how his tone was received. He heard the heels of her boots click against the stone floor as she walked away.

Harry opened his trunk and urged Nagini inside. "Shut up," he told the snake as she hissed her complaint. "It's only temporary." He closed the lid of his trunk against her sibilant pouting and then made his way up to his classroom, his office and what would become his home for at least the next year.

Harry reached his office and stood before the portrait of Adele Pruitt, famous witch and founder of the Dark Arts for Good Society. She greeted him with a thin smile and asked him politely for the password.

"Right," Harry said absently and patted down his robes for the envelope the school sent him awarding him the position. He knelt by his trunk and lifted the lid. "Budge up," he told Nagini and then pulled the letter from under the incensed serpent.

"Riddikulus," he proclaimed. The skinny woman shifted on her settee, kicking her legs up to lounge.

"Sorry. That's not it. Please try again." Her thin smile grew to a toothy grin.

"What do you mean, that's not it. That's what it says here," Harry argued. He lifted the parchment so she could read it.

"It's been changed, love." She was clearly enjoying her job.

Harry glowered. "Fine. Can you tell me who changed it?"

She gave a low laugh and the smiled. "I've been told you were good at solving mysteries, Harry Potter. Go on. For old time's sake."

Harry was ready to pull the portrait from the wall when epiphany struck. "Snape."

"No. That's not the password either," she said and then leant forward conspiratorially. "But you're getting warmer," she whispered and then let out a cackle.

Harry sneered. "Right." A familiar hatred chilled his insides. Innocent or not, Snape was still an evil bastard. Harry'd been witness to the memories which cleared Snape's name, but he couldn't help thinking that Snape was far too easily convinced to kill the Headmaster. And despite the man's help in destroying Voldemort, Harry hadn't been able to manage more than a begrudging understanding of Snape's predicament.

Still a murderer, the good of the cause be damned.

"Find Snape," Harry hissed. "Be careful of his wand. Don't hurt him," he said as an afterthought. As Nagini gleefully complied, Harry began filling bookshelves with books. He'd give it a few minutes, he thought. Let Nagini have her fun.

***  
Severus stood before an open cabinet, making a careful inventory of its contents before the thieving little bastards could come and rob him of his wares. He dipped the quill in the ink carefully posed on the edge of a shelf and noted: _Manticore venom, five and two-thirds vials._

He turned and posed the book on his desk, and pulled out his wand. Flicking it toward his book he watched the lines he'd carefully scripted rearrange themselves in alphabetical order. Satisfied that every last doxy egg had been counted, he placed his wand on his desk and walked back to the cabinet to straighten the rows of bottles and jars.

He was positioning the gillyweed when his mind stretched to Harry Potter. He frowned a moment and went still as though listening. A moment later, he smirked. Yes, the brat was in the castle now. Probably negotiating with the portrait of Severus' great-grandmother. A thrill, which was admittedly petty but nevertheless satisfying, swelled in his chest. 

Welcome back to Hogwarts, Mr Potter. 

Severus lifted his robe slightly to kneel on the floor. He reached out to straighten the mess of bottles on the lower shelf and then fell backward in shock. The snake's head followed him, weaving through the air.

"Sssssneak," it hissed.

Severus held his breath at the sight of the familiar serpent. Slowly he scooted backward, hoping to put enough room between him and Nagini to stand up and stamp on her head. Several bottles went crashing to the floor as the snake struck forward menacingly.

"Sssspy..." 

Severus carefully reached up, getting his thoughts together to summon his wand.

"Accio wand," an insolent voice called from his doorway. Severus watched his wand soar into the inviting hand of Harry Potter.

"Good afternoon, Professor," Potter simpered. "I think you two have already met."

Severus narrowed his eyes. His momentary fear was gone, replaced by a sort of rage that only Potter had the power to invoke. He gathered his legs under him and began to stand, stopping as the snake reared back as though to strike. A few more bottles were pushed from their ledge. "Call her off, Potter," he growled in a threatening voice. 

" _Professor_ Potter," the brat insisted. 

Snape glared momentarily, before turning his gaze to the more immediate danger. Nagini flicked her tongue at him, her head swaying as she waited for direction. Once a slave, always a slave. "Call her off."

"Call her off, what?"

"Potter!" Snape growled. His hand moved slowly backward, seeking anything with which he might defend himself. He couldn't be certain who he'd hit first.

 

"What's the magic word?" Potter sang.

Severus' eyes darted toward the idiot and then back to the snake that was looming. "Now!" he yelled in a threatening voice, which was rather ridiculous given the circumstances.

"No," Potter drawled lazily. "That's not it. Please try again." 

Severus frowned and weighed his options. He felt pretty certain Potter wouldn't let the snake kill him. He was less confident about Potter's control over the snake. Snape had a history with this particular serpent and he could see the lust for blood in her black and beady eyes. They didn't glow red as they once had when she acted as the tupperware bowl for the Dark Lord's tattered soul, but they were no less menacing.

"Please," he grumbled, and hated himself for it.

"Nope. I tried that. That's not it either." 

He could detect a bit of amusement in that voice and he swore to himself he'd curse the brat once he got out of this situation. "What are you on about?" Snape growled. His dignity was bleeding and his patience was wearing thin.

Potter took a few steps forward. He bent and extended an index finger, stroking the head of the snake. The action struck some discordant note in Severus. He raised his eyes to reassess the man who was holding him hostage.

"Someone's locked me out of my room, Professor. Ms Pruitt seems to think you would know who might have done it."

Severus pursed his lips together firmly. The magic word, as it were, would probably do nothing to ensure his release. In fact, it would likely only serve to further compromise his tenuous safety. The pleasure he'd taken from his cruel humour wilted just then. It had seemed a clever idea at the time. 

He glanced up at the green eyes that glittered strangely with malice. For an instant, Severus was almost mesmerised. It occurred to him for one foolish second that the Dark Lord might not be dead after all. "Sectumsempra," Snape said. A bold-faced lie, but he was good at lying.

Potter blinked, but made no move at first. He stared down at the man, searching his face and his eyes. Severus snorted, quite certain that whatever else the stupid man had accomplished in his 25 years, Legilimency was not one.

Eventually, Potter resigned himself to believing Severus' lie. He took a few steps toward the door. "Nagini," he hissed from the doorway. The snake, however, didn't seem inclined to release her prey. 

_Leave him, love._

Severus’s mind flashed back to the first time he’d heard the sibilant sound spilling from the boy’s lips. He’s been appalled at the thought of a 12 year old boy – nevermind _that_ 12 year old boy – stumbling upon his own personal and private kink. Severus had long fostered a mild obsession with the founder of his house and with is a whole host of Parseltongue fantasies. That the only two people in a millennia capable of fulfilling those fantasies were the two people most likely to be the cause of Severus’ demise served as proof that fate had a well developed sense of irony.

He fought against the shivers that the boy's sibilant commands incited. A vague sense of envy – and something not unlike desire - streaked through him as he watched the serpent be coaxed from her predatory posture. Snape felt certain that she knocked more bottles than were necessary from the shelf.

When the snake was safely outside the room, Snape stood and brushed his robes down. His shoulders straightened with misguided dignity. 

"You should clean that up. Someone might get hurt," Potter noted with a hateful smirk.

Severus looked at the mess of glass amidst a toxic, bubbling foam of ingredients mixing together. He managed to just catch his wand before it fell to the floor. Feeling somewhat surer of himself with his wand firmly in hand, Severus called to the retreating figure. "And if that doesn't work, Potter. You might try _Sodoma_.'"

Potter stopped and turned with an impassive expression. "Sorry?"

"I should think by now you know your Latin, _Professor_ Potter."

Severus watched a momentary indignation flair within those eyes and then dim just as quickly. It was astonishing how much emotion the man still put on display after all these years. 

Potter snorted and shook his head. "Clever," he muttered and then disappeared into the corridor.

Severus hadn't known he was looking forward to Potter's reaction until it didn't come. His high expectations deflated like weary balloon. "I'd mind that snake of yours, Potter!" Severus warned, rather impotently.

"Piss off, Snape," a low voice echoed from around the bend.

Severus glared into the dimness of the corridor a second later, his mind caught up in revising the mental image of Harry Potter that he'd held all these long years. When last he saw him, the then seventeen year old boy was testifying on his behalf, telling the jury of the help he'd given the Order toward their cause. He recalled the look of utter loathing he received as the jury declared Severus Snape innocent of all charges.

He could now amend the look that had haunted his conscience all these years. He could frame it in a more mature and weathered face, and colour it with malice. He could attribute it to a slightly taller man who carried himself with all the arrogance and confidence of an accomplished and powerful wizard. He shadowed the image slightly with weariness and added a small tuft of prematurely grey hair to cover the now faded scar. And suddenly there he was, Harry Potter, the man; come back to remind Severus that he'd never been innocent of anything in his life.

For the first time in the four years since he returned to the school, Severus felt he'd finally come home.

The days following Potter's reappearance at Hogwarts were spent futilely attempting to ignore his former student. For his part, Potter made it rather easy. The man stayed to his chambers, only resurfacing for the occasional meal or morning tea in the teachers' lounge. Their meetings were pitifully uneventful and always left Severus disappointed and eager for more. Potter refused to rise to the careful provocations. He would, at best, offer a bland look before ignoring the man altogether.

More annoying than being hopelessly bored, was being hopelessly bored when there was so much potential for amusement. He'd be tempted to think there was no fight left in the stupid man, were it not for their first meeting. Were it not for the glitter of loathing he'd seen in the green eyes, he might be tempted to believe there was no unresolved animosity between them. That there was nothing. He wondered if Potter wasn't doing it to annoy him.


	2. Part 2

" _Sodoma_ ," Harry said to the portrait, who glowered at him but sprang forward anyway.

"You really should change it, dear," she said again. "Imagine speaking like that to a lady."

Harry defiantly kept the password, if only to annoy the woman guarding all his worldly possessions; which wasn't much, all things considered. A few books, his robes – everything Ginny hadn't burnt yet. His broom, of course, had been the first to go. Along with his various awards and thank you gifts for having saved the world. Of course she also managed to get three-quarters of his fortune and half his soul, but it was a small price to pay for freedom.

Really, he didn't miss any of it. His uncluttered rooms pleased him and had become a welcome retreat from the chaos of classes he faced during the day. McGonagall had been right about the memory of students. A part from a few of the older students, who would never openly snigger, the children seemed to be pleased to be learning from Harry Potter. 

And Harry quite liked teaching. He hadn't been certain when he took the job that he wanted to come back to Hogwarts. But after the first week of putting on a brave face, he found his lectures would come easily when faced with a sea of faces wide with anticipation and eager to learn anything he could teach. It was a far cry from the work of an Auror, of course, which was exciting and dangerous. But Harry found he hardly missed it and couldn't really manage to regret being asked to leave.

Harry walked over to the giant aquarium that stretched the length of one wall in his bedroom. He'd felt guilty for keeping Nagini in a cage, but this one seemed large enough to accommodate her while he was teaching. He tapped on the glass to get her attention and she raised her head and flicked her tongue irritably before laying it back down on the branch on which she rested.

Harry lifted the lid and offered his hand. "Don't pout," he said. "It might be worse."

"My masster never put me in a cage," she said coldly. 

Harry gave an exasperated sigh. She was loyal to him, he knew. But she also never lost an opportunity to lament the passing of her former master. As a predator, she'd certainly had it better with him. "Voldemort's the reason you have to be caged," he reminded her. "Soon you'll be accepted," he hoped aloud. Quite frankly, he didn't care if they accepted her or not. He'd adopted her in a moment of panicked compassion. They'd spent years learning to trust one another and whether other people thought it correct or not, he was her familiar.

She was his familiar.

Whatever.

"I'm sorry. Come out now," he said, and stretched his hand, palm upward, to stroke the underside of her head. She flicked her tongue over his skin and after a thoughtful moment, slithered up his arm and over his shoulders to curl around his neck. Harry gathered the rest of her from the branch and carried her to his office. She raised her head as he sat down and gave a miserable hiss.

Harry turned his head to look at her in concern. "All right?" he asked and took her gently just below the head to examine her. His nose wrinkled. "That time again, is it?" he said softly. 

She stared at him, tongue flicking to taste the air. 

"I'll make an appointment for Saturday. I have to go to Hogsmeade with the students anyway," Harry said in English, mostly to himself.

Nagini hissed painfully as she set her head back down on his shoulder. "Hurtssss," she sighed.

Harry furrowed his brow. He hated milking her and always preferred to have it done by someone with more careful fingers. He'd done it last week after having failed to find someone suitable in Hogsmeade and ended up paying a visit to Madam Pomfrey. 

"If you'd let me Apparate..." he hissed reproachfully. But she hated Apparation, not that Harry could blame her.

Harry tried to ignore her pained sounds a moment, sure she was putting it on for his benefit. But in the end, he knew he'd have to do it. She became dangerous the more concentrated her venom became and would bite just to relieve the pain of it. 

He stood from his desk, leaving a stack of unmarked papers, and went to his room to get a few crystal phials, a pair of gloves and a bowl. He'd use the long table in his classroom this time as it was much sturdier than his bed. 

He laid her carefully along the table, and placed a bowl under her head. The gloves he wore were as thin as a second skin, but impenetrable. Madam Pomfrey had given them to him after last week's incident. "Steady now," he hissed gently.

He began the delicate process, trying to keep his touch soft but persistent. The milky venom dripped into the bottom of the bowl. It was thicker than usual as it had been quite awhile since she'd been properly milked. His attempt at it last week had soon ended when he'd kneaded a bit too hard and she'd bitten him in defence. He'd had the forethought to have a potion on hand that would slow the venom's progress just enough that he could get to the hospital wing to get properly treated.

Madam Pomfrey had been less than sympathetic.

"Attempting suicide again, Potter?" a voice droned from the doorway, scaring Harry to death. His hand slipped and Nagini struck the thin membrane of the glove he was wearing. He let out a relieved breath when he found the gloves to be effective.

"Shhhh." He took Nagini's head and stroked soothingly. "I'm busy," he said in a low voice, raising his eyes momentarily. "Do you need something?"

"You weren't at dinner," Snape said.

Harry raised an eyebrow and gave a nasty sneer. "Miss me?" he said.

Snape narrowed his eyes. He looked to be struggling with the notion that he could no longer give Harry detention. Harry smiled at the thought, which only served to make the vein in Snape's temple swell more. 

"This came for you," Snape said, crossing the room, but stopping before he reached the desk where the venom-infused snake was still spitting at Harry's gentle coaxing. 

Harry glanced at the letter and the bandaged hand holding it. "Just set it down. I'll get it when I'm finished."

Snape sniffed irritably. "I had to sign for it and swear my left hand that I'd deliver it to you."

"Fine. I'll get it later," Harry said again, regulating his voice so as not to scare Nagini.

"You have to sign this saying you received it, Potter," Snape snapped, thrusting a tattered piece of parchment at him.

"For fuck's sake, Snape," Harry said with forced calm, "I'm in the middle of something." Nagini's venom was thinning now and growing clearer. 

"Then I'll wait." Snape insisted in the same low calm tone, clearly unwilling to draw the snake's attention to himself either. 

"Lovely," Harry mumbled. He fixed his attention again on Nagini, gently drawing the venom from her. He ignored the feel of eyes boring into the top of his head and spoke in gentle tones. "Pity we wasted this, love. You might have used it on him," he said. A few minutes later, the spit ran clear and Harry drew her around his shoulders. She thanked him with a lazy sigh.

Gathering himself and pushing the irritation down, he looked up at the Potions master. In the weeks he'd been at Hogwarts, Snape was everywhere. Harry suspected he'd resumed his former favourite pastime of watching Harry's every movement and quite frankly, it was irritating. He was a professor. He was doing his job and Snape no longer had the power to stop him doing anything he liked. "Sign what?" he said in a flat tone.

Snape approached the table and lay the letter down before pulling a scroll from his robes. He pointed at a line underneath his own irritated signature. Harry pulled his wand from his robes and touched it to the line, letting his own signature crawl underneath Snape's. The scroll rolled up and disappeared with a pop.

Without a word, Harry began siphoning the venom into his wand and distributing it into the crystal phials. He looked up before corking the phials to see Snape staring at him strangely. Guessing at the reason, Harry narrowed his eyes. "He bollocksed up her system after years of forcing her to produce it to feed his habit," he said defensively. "She produces too much and it hurts her."

Snape raised an eyebrow and stared at Harry for a moment. "What do you do with it?" he asked.

Harry wondered at the reason for the question. There were quite a few uses for the stuff, few of them legal. But something in Snape's expression told him that the question was asked out of a professional interest, rather than an accusation. "Throw it out? Why?" He suppressed the smile that tried to grow at the sight of the indignation blooming on Snape's face. 

Snape opened his mouth dumbly and after a moment Harry laughed.

"I give it to St Mungos," he admitted. He waved his wand to put an unbreakable charm on the phials before putting them into his pockets. 

Snape visibly deflated. He turned to go but something stopped his feet from moving. "She must produce quite a lot," he said stiffly. 

"About a half pint a month, now," Harry said. "She's getting better." He cleaned the bowl with a flick of his wand and sent it soaring back into his rooms.

"A half pint," Snape repeated. Harry could see the struggle on his face and knew he was trying to find a way to get the stuff without having to ask for it. "How much do you charge them for it?"

Harry gave a look of disgust. "Nothing," he said, insulted.

Snape's sallow face fell in disbelief. "Nothing," he repeated. 

"I don't need the money," Harry insisted. And if he did, he wouldn't get it like that.

Snape snorted. "Really? I'd heard you've been cleaned out."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Just get out, Snape," he said with a voice laden with weariness. He didn't have the energy to be angry anymore. Ginny had taken that too.

"St Mungo's can't possibly use it all," Snape said in tone strangely devoid of bitterness.

"They don't say no to it," Harry answered with a shrug.

"Of course they don't, Potter. They're likely selling it to potions stores and making thousands off it. More I daresay, considering the snake it came from."

"It doesn't matter," Harry said, gathering Nagini around his neck and preparing to go back to his marking. He hated this conversation. He'd had this conversation with the greedy bitch he'd married. He wasn't about to have it with Snape, of all people.

"Well, if you don't care that they're taking you for a fool," Snape said irritably. 

"She's been used enough!" Harry shouted suddenly. 

"Don't be ridiculous," Snape snorted, unwavering. "You have to do it anyway. There's no harm in profiting from it."

Harry turned to leave the conversation behind. It was none of Snape's business and he was fairly sure that Snape was only interested in adding a bit of the stuff to his own potions store. 

The thought stopped Harry as he climbed the first step toward his office. He spun around and faced his former professor with a small defiant smile. "I'll tell you what, Snape," he said. "You find someone who can milk her twice a week and you can have half."

Snape looked as though he choked on the next retort. He shut his mouth dumbly.

Satisfied that he'd won the argument, Harry went back to his office. 

***

Severus sat in the teachers' lounge the next morning, staring blankly at the Prophet. A cup of tea cooled on the table next to him. He was usually the first to arrive for the meetings and today had been no exception. Normally he would sit and read the paper before the room came teeming with idle chatter and gossip from the rest of his colleagues. It was his moment of peace.

Except he'd not been peaceful for weeks. Alone, yes, but not peaceful. In fact, if someone were to quiz him on current events, given his habit of reading the paper every morning, one would find him woefully, shamefully ignorant. His mind was occupied, to put it lightly. 

_Obsessed_ , a small voice in his head corrected.

Rubbish. It was true that he thought perhaps a bit too much about Hogwarts' newest professor, but given the identity of the new professor, it was hardly surprising. The two had a history after all. A long, sordid, hateful history. They'd gone through hell and back together.

Well, not quite together, but not quite separately either. There'd always been a spot in his brain dedicated to the awareness of that brat. 

Admittedly, it had never been such a large spot.

Potter entered the room and Snape's stomach gave a sickening lurch. He glanced up almost in recognition and then snapped his paper straight again. His eyes focussed on the word 'pathetic'. _Quite_ , he told himself as his stomach began swirling ridiculously.

It wasn't a _crush_. Severus Snape did not engage in such foolishness. He did not get giddy whenever their eyes met. It merely gave him pause. Severus reasoned it was because he was accustomed to seeing them behind glass and it was repeatedly shocking to see them without that barrier. 

If anyone was to blame for this new interest in the man, it was Rita Skeeter and her rather detailed investigative reporting on the Secret Life of Harry Potter. Severus certainly wasn't the only one who'd read (religiously) every article that had been written in the fall out of Potter's Moment of Indiscretion, as it had been named. That Severus' mind filled in the blanks left in the article for decency's sake was a natural compulsion for which he couldn't be blamed. 

Completely reasonable to try and imagine the boy who had it all on his knees sucking off a complete stranger in a dark loo. Perfectly normal to look at the man now and wonder just how far he could take it in before he choked.

Severus folded the paper and laid it across his lap. He took a deep drink from his tea, eyes trained on Potter who was making notes on what appeared to be an essay. 

"You'd left your letter on the table," Severus pointed out to him. His dignity shrivelled in self-disgust. Over the past few weeks he'd used whatever excuse he could come up with to speak to the man. It was ridiculous. He'd practically torn the letter out of McGonagall's hands, much to the dismay of the owl who'd pecked him until he signed the release. His hasty excuse that he needed to speak to Potter anyway had been treated with suspicion.

Potter looked up and Severus shifted his eyes slightly so as not to be taken in again. He looked back to the paper on his lap.

"Yeah. I got it," Potter mumbled and then went back to his marking.

A tense silence filled the air. "It must have been important. The owl who delivered it had been insistent."

Potter grunted. "Divorce papers," he muttered and then glanced up as though daring Severus to say something snide.

But Severus couldn't think of anything to say to that. And that was bloody ridiculous. Surely he could find something hateful. Something that would keep the conversation going and, if he was lucky, make those eyes glitter again with burning passion - rage. Rage, not passion.

"I suspect you still have your soul," Severus said in a low bitter voice and then picked up the paper again to hide his shame.

To his surprise – surprise and not delight – Potter laughed. Bitterly, but there was some humour inherent within that laugh. Severus' eyes shot up from the paper.

"Only half of it," Potter said and his face broke into a smile. "But I get to keep the award for the most expensive blowjob in history."

Severus choked and Potter laughed, face beet red at his audacity and, likely, at Severus' reaction. "Bloody hell, Potter," Severus said, trying to infuse his tone with disgust and managing to make it only slightly less breathless.

"Sorry," Potter said as he managed to stop laughing. "It's not funny. I know." A renewed flush of red coloured the habitually pale cheeks. Potter turned his gaze back to the scroll with another muttered apology.

"I do hope it was worth it," Severus grumbled back.

Potter looked up and met Severus' eyes. Severus' heart stopped momentarily at the sight of a slightly lewd smirk. The lips parted as the man went to say something but closed again. 

Severus' entire being hung on that one unspoken word. He was thrown unceremoniously back to earth as the door opened and a few more professors wandered in. 

Potter cleared his throat of whatever dirty remark he'd closed it over and went back to marking.

And thus went the first almost pleasant exchange they'd ever had. That they were capable of it at all came as quite a shock to Severus and his mind was reeling well into the morning. 

It didn't give him hope, exactly. In fact, by the end of the morning, Severus had decided that the exchange was more irritating than their normal shouting matches. In fact, Potter's comment had obviously been meant to provoke Severus and he'd been too dumbstruck to realise it.

And if it wasn't, if Potter were really speaking to him as an equal, then it was just as bad. It was a presumptuous comment to have made and Severus only validated the presumption by not being mortally offended. He'd made an arse of himself.

Potter had made an arse of him.

_Again._

By lunch, Severus was satisfied in his hatred of the other man. His obsession – _interest_ \- however, thrived on in that vulgar smirk, in imagining the unspoken words that powered it. 

Severus sat at the head table poking the food around his plate. He wasn't _waiting_ exactly as he was anticipating Potter's routine arrival. It was the only other time he could count on it. Potter only came to dinner on Sunday evenings and spent the rest of his time with that horrid creature he lived with.

Gods, he hated that snake.

And was equally envious of the care Potter showed it, although he'd never admit it. Nor would he name the reaction that listening to Potter speaking parseltongue invoked within him. He'd spent all night contemplating taking Potter up on his offer. It would be for the money and the potions ingredients were he to volunteer to milk Nagini. He was Slytherin after all and couldn't in good conscience give up a chance like that. 

It was only due to his extreme loathing of that snake that he'd not offered last night. He'd spent enough time milking her for the Dark Lord to volunteer to do it now. And not even the prospect of forging this bond with Potter would make him offer his services now.

It didn't matter that Potter would likely not leave her side during the procedure. Nor did it matter that he'd probably speak to her as Severus performed his duty. He wasn't going to do it.

Severus stabbed a piece of broccoli and led it to his mouth at the sight of Potter coming through the side door. He forgot to chew when the man walked behind him causing the hair at the back of his neck stand on end. He nearly choked when Potter sat beside him.

He'd never done that before.

"Hey," Potter said in a quiet voice.

Snape grunted and tried to remember how to chew. As Potter began eating, Snape slowly convinced his mouth to rip the vegetable into pieces he could manage to swallow.

He tried not to wonder if Potter swallowed too.

"So, did you give any thought to what we talked about yesterday?" Potter asked curiously.

Severus glanced over pretending not to have been obsessing about it continuously. "No," he lied shamelessly. "Should I have?"

"Oh," Potter said.

"But if you're serious," Severus began... He wasn't going to do this. He couldn't do this. This obsession had gone far enough. No. "I wouldn't be opposed to doing it myself." _Pathetic._

"Oh," Potter said, surprised. "Oh, well..." He looked at his plate. "I thought maybe you knew... someone else. I didn't mean you had to..." 

"It would save you paying someone else," Snape said. "And in your current situation, I think you could do without the extra expense." His tone was sufficiently business like with a hint of mocking. As it should be. He congratulated himself on a job well done.

"I... yeah," Potter sighed. "But no. Thanks all the same." 

Severus frowned. How dare he reject his generosity? He shot an irritated look at the boy, happy for the return to normalcy. "Suit yourself," he grumbled.

"Look. No offence, but... She doesn't like you." Harry shrugged.

Severus bristled. "In my experience with that particular reptile, Potter, she doesn't like anyone. It's not stopped me from successfully doing it before. In case you haven't noticed, I can manage to work with _anyone_ regardless of their feelings for me."

Potter looked stunned for a moment. "It's nothing personal, Snape. She just... She's not forgiven you for betraying... _him_." Potter's regard darkened and a slight sneer appeared on his lips.

"Oh, I see," Severus said in a cool, low tone. "But she's forgiven you for destroying _him_. How gracious of her," he said with a sneer.

"It took long time. And I can _talk_ to her," Harry said. "She's just really loyal."

"To him."

"No," Potter growled angrily. "To her master. That's me now." 

By the way he'd said it, Severus surmised this was a particularly sore spot for the other man. So, naturally, he prodded it. "Clearly," he said blandly.

"Wait," Potter said suddenly, his eyes lighting up spectacularly and cutting off whatever long, insulting rant Severus was composing. "I have an idea. Maybe you could spend some time with her... I mean so that she gets used to you. It'll be a couple of days before she needs it again. We can see how she feels then." He gave an irresistibly hopeful smile.

A brilliant idea, if Severus were judge. The smile was damnably contagious as well. Snape paused to get a grip before his sudden enthusiasm let itself be known. "You presume I have nothing better to do with my time than attempt to woo your snake." In fact, he could think of nothing he'd rather do.

Potter's face fell. The light in his eyes dimmed fantastically. His small, supple mouth turned down. For a moment, Snape thought he would like to spend hours just invoking every emotion possible, cataloguing Potter's expressions as though they were his private store of potions ingredients. 

"You're right. I'll just find someone tomorrow in Hogsmeade," Potter said decisively.

Snape blinked, recovering from his momentary insanity. "You're going to be hard pressed to find someone in Hogsmeade willing to work with that particular serpent," Severus argued.

"If you want paying..." Harry trailed off. "I've got some money left."

Severus could think of a fair pay off. He wiped the thought from his mind – almost completely. He'd surely revisit it tonight when he was pretending to sleep again. Another fantasy for his repertoire: a grateful Potter milking Severus as he milked Potter's... snake. "I'll be paid well enough with the venom," he sighed. "Fine, Potter. I'll do it on the condition that you don't leave me alone with her. And if she bites me, I'm fully within my right to kill her."

Potter narrowed his eyes. "I'll stay with her," he said. "But if you hurt her in any way, you'll answer to me."

Severus snorted arrogantly. "I suppose I should be quaking in my boots?"

"I've learnt quite a lot since our last duel," Harry said matter-of-factly.

"So I've read," Severus said and nailed the man with a smirk aimed to wither whatever confidence he'd managed to put together his threat. To Severus' extreme pleasure, Potter blushed. 

"Bastard," Potter muttered into his pumpkin juice. 

It was strange to find pleasure in being called that after all these years.

***

Harry sat in his rooms waiting for the arrival of Snape. He felt nervous, admittedly. Nagini hated the man nearly as much as Harry did and after having discussed the matter with her, he was certain this plan was doomed to failure.

"He's going to help," Harry said. He lowered himself onto the floor and looked under his bed. "You don't have to like him. You just have to let him help us. I wouldn't let him hurt you."

She lifted her head from out of the coil of her body and flicked her tongue at him before ducking down again. Harry sighed and lowered his head to the ground. "Bitch," he muttered as the portrait door opened.

"Potter?" A voice called from his front room. 

"In here!" Harry shouted back. "Come on, Nagini," Harry tried again. "He's here. Just... have a talk. Maybe you'll..." Well, certainly not _like_ him. "Not hate him." It was the best either of them could hope for.

"East is the other way," the deep sarcastic voice said above him. 

Harry raised himself up to his elbows and turned his head to stare up at the man looking down at him. He offered a sheepish smile. "She's hiding," he told the man. "I shouldn't have told her you were coming."

Harry pulled himself from the floor and brushed the dust from his t-shirt and jeans. "Would you like something to drink?"

Snape sneered. "You've got dirt..." His hand made a move as though to brush the aforementioned dirt away, but then relaxed at the man's side. 

Harry frowned and lifted his hand to his face.

"On your forehead," Snape specified.

"Oh." Harry snorted and brushed the dirt away with his hand. "So... drinks?" He slid past Snape on the way to the small antechamber. A moment later he could hear the man following him. "She'll probably come out if we stay out here. She doesn't like to be left alone too long." He chattered nervously on, unsure what to say to the man now that they were alone. There were loads of things he would have liked to ask the man, none of which would make for polite conversation and all of which would likely end with Harry cursing the bastard to oblivion.

Nagini was a safe subject. And the reason Snape was allowed in his rooms.

"Have a seat," Harry said. "Do you want something? I've got... mead or butterbeer. Wine." Harry moved bottles around on their shelf. "Whisky?" He turned around to find Snape standing awkwardly in the middle of the room as though stunned. Harry peeked around the corner to see what it was that had him looking so frightened.

" _There you are*_ ," Harry hissed. " _Stop that_ ," he reprimanded, walking over to the snake who was in strike position. "I think she's just trying to scare you," he said, not just a little mortified. "She's really quite nice."

Harry lifted Nagini and let her slide over his shoulders before going to pick up the whisky bottle. "Could you grab those," he said, nodding toward two glasses that were posed on another shelf. He wished more than anything that Snape would speak.

But the man didn't. Instead he grabbed the glasses in question and set them on the coffee table in front of the small sofa. Harry sat on one end. Snape sat on the other. Harry poured out two measures of liquid and grabbed one, immediately drinking.

The whisky had an ironically sobering effect, which was nice as Harry had been trapped in the chaos of hospitality mode. He closed his eyes and took a deep calming breath. When he looked over he found that Snape's glass was empty. He'd thought he'd filled it.

"Sorry," Harry said, filling it. "I'm sort of nervous. She's doesn't take well to visitors," Harry said.

"It appears the same might be said about you," Snape pointed out. "I'm supposed to try and appeal to you to change your portrait's password."

"Yeah. She doesn't seem to find it so amusing now," Harry said, taking an almost sinister pleasure in Ms Pruitt's discomfort.

"I suppose I should apologise."

"Oh, I'd not start apologising now, Snape. We'd be here all night," Harry said. He blinked at his own hateful tone. He looked over cautiously to gauge the man's mood. This wasn't the point of the evening.

"I've done my penance," Snape said and washed the bitter words away with the contents of his glass.

Not enough, thought Harry, but he thought better of saying it aloud. "Do you want to hold her?" he asked. The look that greeted the offer made Harry laugh out loud. "I suppose not."

"Of course I don't know why any of this is necessary," Snape said irritably. "When she gets in that state, she won't be too particular."

"I'm particular," Harry said in a soft voice as he stroked her head. She'd been treated horribly her whole life by that arsehole, it was time she was taken care of. It was time someone loved her unconditionally.

"And you don't trust me," Snape said in a bland tone. 

"I trust you'd get the job done," Harry retorted. "There's money involved after all." The man opened his mouth, eyes glittering angrily. Harry met whatever retort the man had with a look that said quite clearly: Care to deny it? "Look. It's just that she doesn't trust you, and with good reason. You betrayed Voldemort."

Harry watched the man bare his teeth at the name. He probably thought better of forbidding Harry to use it again. Harry'd killed him, after all. Instead, Snape said, "I'm terribly sorry. How could I have done something so horrible?" His lip curled into a sneer.

Harry gave a long-suffering sigh. "I'm not saying it was bad. I'm just trying to explain... She's... weird. I don't know." He ran his hands over his face. "This was such a stupid idea," Harry said into his palms. 

Snape grunted. To his credit, he didn't elaborate. Harry stroked the body of the snake absently a moment before looking over. He found Snape watching him. 

"Why do you care so much?" Snape asked. The question didn't appear mocking, so Harry didn't see any harm in answering it.

He shrugged. "I just do. I mean... whatever she did it was in her nature to do it. And with a master who cared bugger all about her—"

"That's very presumptuous of you," Snape said in a low voice. "He doted on her. I daresay she was the only thing he did care about."

"He used her," Harry said firmly. "For her venom, for her body, and to kill innocent people."

"I'm not certain she was reluctant, Potter," Snape said quietly.

"It's her nature," Harry insisted. Of course she was going to kill when she had a master who condoned such actions. "She's not killed since I've had her. And she won't do again."

The man watched Harry with a strange expression. A minute later, he snorted.

Harry frowned. "What?"

"Do you know who you remind me of?" Snape asked and then laughed.

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Who?" he asked, expecting to hear something horrible.

"Hagrid," Snape said. 

Harry opened his mouth to deny it but stopped at the thought that Snape had a point. He laughed lightly. "Yeah," he sighed fondly. If Hagrid were alive, he'd understand. He'd probably know someone who could help Nagini too.

"Why don't you do it yourself?" Snape asked, turning to pour himself another draught of whisky and adding some to Harry's glass as well.

"I don't like to. I always end up hurting her," he said. "I'll do it if I have to, but I'd rather just be there to keep her calm, you know?" Harry picked up his glass and sipped it. "Am I really as bad as Hagrid?" he asked and then snorted. "I didn't think I'd gone that mad."

"He'd have been proud," Snape said diplomatically. "She's certainly deadly enough to have won his love. That she has a tragic past would cement the deal."

Harry shook his head and laughed. "The things he would come out with. And he loved them. He was the only one, mind. But someone had to love them." It was like Nagini. She was alone in the world. Anyone else would have killed her, knowing who she'd served. Harry took her in because no one else would.

He supposed he was a little like Hagrid in that sense. The notion filled him with a sense of pride. 

"He was a good man," Snape said. Harry looked over to see Snape look away. The man drained his glass once more and stood up. "I should go."

Harry frowned a little and then stood. "Yeah, all right." He carefully shifted the weight from his shoulders and set Nagini down in the chair he'd abandoned. He raised his arms above his head, stretching the tension from his back and yawning. "So what do you think?" he asked, scratching his stomach and looking back at the snake coiled in his chair. 

"Hm?" Snape said.

Harry looked at him. "I'll talk it over with her tonight," he said. "I don't know if we made progress or not, but she wasn't hissing insults at you, which is a good sign, I think." He gave a lopsided smile.

Snape glared at the chair. "Insults," he repeated.

"You should have heard the stuff she called me at the beginning. I wouldn't take it personally if I were you," Harry said. 

"I'll do my best," Snape said blandly before turning to leave. He stopped at the door. "I'd like to try again tomorrow, if you're willing."

"Really?" Harry said. Why? He wanted to know. They were clearly not going to become the best of friends. Nor had Harry really expected it. But Snape still seemed reluctant to go anywhere near Nagini and Nagini was quite opposed to it as well.

"I'll be here tomorrow at 8," Snape said and then disappeared through the portrait hole. The portrait clicked shut behind him.

Harry stared a moment, trying to decide whether or not he wanted another evening of Snape. A moment later he realised that it hadn't been as bad as it might have been and anyway, it would be convenient if Nagini would accept Snape's help. 

"Well?" Harry hissed down to his familiar. "What do you think?"

"Sssspy," Nagini hissed irritably.

Harry pursed his lips. "He was working for me," he argued. "He was a good guy." Sort of. Arguably. Technically. "He wants to help us."

"He wantsss to help you. He hatess me."

Harry snorted. "He hates me too. He's in it for the money." Not that it mattered why he wanted to help, just that he wanted to. It was enough to know that at the very least Snape would be professional and careful with her. He was used to working with delicate things and would likely be very good at milking her. 

When his mind began to wander down logical extensions, wondering what other delicate matters the man's hands would be good for, Harry shook his head violently. He was in obvious need of a good night's sleep.

***

"Severus," McGonagall said, with a puzzled look. "Since when do you want Hogsmeade duty? And furthermore, since when do you want to leave the castle?" 

Severus glared. There was nothing behind that glare. His pride had abandoned him. His dignity was clearly on holiday. The anger that had burnt strong since birth had been smothered by some stupid, aching, impulsive feeling that was clearly in control of all his actions now. He was helpless.

But he could still glare. "I have to go to town anyway," Severus said, irritably. "Since I'll be there, I don't see why Professor Bramble can't take the Saturday off." 

"Or Professor Potter," McGonagall pointed out. She gave him a shrewd smile.

"Potter could stand to learn what real work is. As it's the first Hogsmeade weekend, he should be taught properly what to look out for," Severus countered. He'd been ready for that.

McGonagall gave him a severe look. "It's _Professor_ Potter, Severus. Or Harry. I'm not going to let you go to Hogsmeade to harass him. I daresay he'll have enough to deal with, what with all the gossip."

Severus scoffed, "I'm hardly going to harass him. In case you haven't noticed, I've been nothing but civil toward the idiot since he came here."

"Ah. Civil? And you call locking him out of his rooms, civil, perhaps? Yes, I know about that. And the password. Don't pretend to be philanthropic with me, Severus, it doesn't suit you. Tell me what this is really about."

Severus kept steady eye contact, though his heart was pounding desperately. Some still sane part of him told him to give up the effort. He didn't _really_ want to spend his Saturday babysitting the stupid brats he put up with all day, five days a week. And he'd see Potter in the evening anyway.

So why did he still feel like throwing himself on the ground, kicking his feet and shouting I WANT MY TOY!

If the sane part of him had any power whatsoever, he'd have stood up and conceded his disinterest in the job. As the sane part of him was now wrapped in a strait jacket of warm and fuzzy feelings, he doggedly kept on. 

"All right. I'm trying to convince Potter to do something," he said at last. 

McGonagall sat back in her chair and folded her hands. 

"Don't look at me like that. It will benefit him as much as I," he said sternly. "That snake of his produces a half pint of venom every month, Minerva, which will greatly increase the value of my potions stock and furthermore, increase his monthly income. Since that Weasley twit got a hold of him, he's lost nearly everything. But thus far he's refused to accept money for it out of some noble wish to not use the wretched beast like the Dark Lord had. It's a ridiculous notion that one could only expect from a Gryffindor. He's sitting on a goldmine and he's been giving the stuff away. Furthermore, he's been paying someone to extract it. If I can convince him to let me extract it, and let me sell it on the market, we might both be able to supplement our pensions."

McGonagall listened with an expression that Severus couldn't read. He couldn't tell whether or not she'd bought the story and well, it was the truth after all. In a sense.

Suddenly McGonagall started laughing. "Oh, Severus. Forgive me," she said and took a deep breath. "I'd thought – well, ridiculous really. But you've seemed desperate to see him lately. I was sure that you..." She laughed harder and wiped her eyes of mirth. "Go to Hogsmeade, Severus. I owe you for even daring to think that you fancied him."

She might have just kicked him in the bollocks for the effect the words had. His face went slack, eyes grew wide. It took him a damning moment to recover. "Fancied..." He should sneer now and so he did, after another guilty moment. "Don't be ridiculous. I'd sooner take a fancy to a Blast-ended Skrewt."

McGonagall caught her breath. "I know. I know. I'm terribly sorry. But when you see as much infatuation as I have over the years, you tend to look for signs. It never occurred to me that you and Potter would have business together." She smiled. "I'll tell Bramble to take the day off. I do hope you manage to convince him, Severus. But do try not to antagonise him, will you? And while you're at it, convince him to change that password. Adele is at the end of her tether about it."

"Thank you, Minerva," Severus said in a low voice and stood up from the chair, feeling more than a little shaky. 

"And Severus... Remember that you're in Hogsmeade to look after the children."

Severus turned around with a bitter sneer that came quite naturally at the mention of the brats. He didn't dignify the reminder with a response, nor was he capable of a response given that his entire body was buzzing with the thrill of victory and the notion that Potter would be forced in his company for the rest of the day.

 

"I didn't think you did these trips," Potter said, pulling his cloak around him and looking over the sea of students descending toward Hogsmeade.

"I don't," Severus said irritably. He wrapped his arms around him more tightly and put a bit more distance between him and his companion so he could breathe without getting drunk on the scent of the man. He couldn't name the fragrance so he labelled it Potter in his mind. He was almost certain it was some wicked potion designed to befuddle the wits of anyone stupid enough to get close.

A small feral jealousy began clawing at his stomach as he wondered for whom Potter had worn the ensnaring scent. Perhaps Potter intended to meet someone? In a public loo...

"So what do we have to do all day? I only remember seeing the teachers in the Three Broomsticks, getting pissed." Potter snorted. 

"Then I'm not of a mind to change tradition," Severus growled. "Unless you've got other plans?"

Potter shook his head. "I'd have worn my invisibility cloak if McGonagall hadn't forbidden it," he said. 

Severus looked over and narrowed his eyes. Potter glanced at him and offered a sheepish smile. "It will be my first public appearance since... well..." 

"Right," Severus said. "Your Moment of Indiscretion."

"Yeah," Potter said. The word was nearly lost in the sound of the wind.

"One would think you were out looking for another with all the cologne you're wearing," Snape noted bitterly. 

Potter stopped a moment with an indignant look on his face. "I'm not wearing cologne," he spat. "And I've quite learnt my lesson, thanks." He began walking a little quicker now, and irritably.

Severus was struck dumb with the knowledge that it was just Potter. Severus picked up his own pace, following the scent. How could he not have noticed it before? Maybe it was a new washing powder. Maybe it was a new shampooing potion. Soap? 

"I didn't even have time to shower this morning. I didn't sleep worth a damn last night," he complained. "And the last thing I want to do today is defend myself against you and all of Hogsmeade, all right? So I'll thank you to shut up about it or fuck off," he hissed.

Severus had to quicken his pace or be lost the in wake of Potter's fury. He walked closely now, and arched his neck to say in a low voice. "Keep your temper, Potter. Whatever your feelings about me, or mine about you, it's unprofessional to demonstrate it before the students. I'll not bring up the subject again." And then he took a deep breath and pulled away lest he drown. His head swam a moment and his abdomen swirled. The low ache that had been throbbing since seeing the man at breakfast deepened and intensified. 

"Sorry," Potter mumbled after a moment. "I'm a little short tempered today." He continued walking with a sour look on his face.

After a moment, Snape snorted. "It's quite understandable. I'm _a little_ short tempered on a good day." He offered what might pass as a consolatory look. His heart took flight at the sight of an amused smile. He suppressed an absurd urge to wrap his arm around the man's waist and pull him close. Severus clasped his hands behind his back, lest they get any more ridiculous notions.

Most of the morning passed in silence as the two patrolled the streets and shops, eyes peeled for suspicious activities. Potter stayed clear of the Weasleys' Hogsmeade store, leaving Severus to go in and prevent the students from buying the usual stock of Skiving Snackboxes. He bought a few things himself and then went in search of Potter. He found him walking out of a potions shop with a stormy expression.

Severus raised an eyebrow as Potter noticed him. Potter gave him a warning look before walking over to join him. "What did you get?" he asked, more to divert attention away from himself than out of curiosity.

"Skiving Snackboxes," Severus muttered. "Whenever some brat gets ill in my class I make them eat the antidote. If their illness is magically cured they get two months with Filch." It was a rather clever idea, if he said so himself. And the illness rate in his classes decreased dramatically since he'd wizened up it.

"Ouch," Potter said. "Nice, but..." He shrugged. "I just let them get away with it. If they think they've got something better to be doing, I don't really want them in class anyway." Potter smirked. "Of course, they invariably miss some last minute practical test that counts 100 points off their total marks." His smile turned wicked.

Severus gave an appreciative snort. "I'd never have thought you were capable of cruelty," Severus said. 

"It's fair play," Harry said in defence. "Besides it would do me no good to try and keep them from buying the stuff. I own stock in the company," he laughed. His laughter stopping abruptly. "Owned stock," he corrected sullenly. "Bitch," he mumbled. And just as quickly as it had lightened, the mood grew sombre and stormy again. Potter stopped. "It wouldn't be like this if I'd been with some woman, you know. God knows how many blokes she's got off with since we got married. But now she gets to be the victim because I'm a sodding poof!" 

Severus froze with his mouth open, shocked and a little embarrassed by the tirade. He watched realisation dawn on the angry face, turning it first pale and then bright pink. The sniggers that erupted from surrounding shoppers were treated with Severus' best death glare. "Come along, Potter," Severus said quickly and led the blushing man by the arm toward the nearest pub. It turned out to be the Hog's Head, which suited their purposes just fine as it was mostly empty.

Potter took refuge in a shadowy corner while Severus ordered two shots of firewhisky. He brought the two glasses over and sat down next to the other man.

"Don't sit too close," Potter growled. "People will talk."

Severus stayed quiet during a moment of panic, but didn't move. "Is that for my benefit or for yours?" Severus asked cautiously.

Potter looked over at him and narrowed his eyes. "It depends upon whether or not you're fussed that Skeeter's next big exposé will detail the sordid affair of the Chosen One and the Death Eater."

Severus pursed his lips into a thin line and then moved reluctantly to the end of the seat. Potter hadn't answered his question. "Rita Skeeter's a sensationalistic cow. And anyone who would believe a word she wrote is a fool. I don't care what fools think of me," he said bitterly. 

Potter buried his head in his hands. "I should be used to this by now," he lamented. "I'm sorry for... out there. I just get so bloody pissed off. You know what the bloke said in the potions shop? 'From what I hear, you're capable of milking your own snake. Ha. Ha.' Can you believe that?"

Severus suppressed a laugh that wanted to produce. He coughed for good measure, but the hilarity was too strong and he couldn't stop laughing after that. 

"It's not funny," Potter fumed, but Severus could see the corner of his mouth quirk up.

"No," Severus laughed. "A little obvious, though." 

"I suppose," Potter said, grinning sheepishly. He groaned and buried his face in his hands again.

The laughter subsided and Severus shook his head. "So you've decided to reject my offer?" Snape realised. He gave a dismayed frown. 

"Not really. Not yet. I just wanted to check my options," Potter said. "Sorry," he added quickly.

Severus grunted and then threw back the whisky. He exhaled a puff of smoke expertly through his nose. "This is about Albus, isn't it?" he said quietly. Then he remembered that he'd intended to avoid this conversation at all cost.

"I don't want to talk about it," Potter said quickly. "I saw the evidence. I know why you did... what you did." The last bit was delivered to the shot of firewhisky which was disposed of just after. Potter shuddered and coughed, waving at the smoke. "We should get back out there," he said.

Severus gave a mirthless snort, but made no move. He couldn't blame Potter for hating him. How could he when Severus couldn't even justify the action to himself. He'd made a vow, it was true. But had he paid closer attention to what Draco had been doing all year, it would never have come to that stand off. He might have saved them all.

No, some more insistent, self-preserving voice told him. You did what you had to do. 

He'd done what was expected of him. He'd done as he'd been told to do. His orders were clear from both sides. Dumbledore had to die. And if all else failed, he'd have to be the one to do it. It wasn't murder.

It was suicide by manipulation.

"I don't need your forgiveness, Potter," Severus said, his voice laden with bitterness. "But my professional record speaks for itself. Whatever job I have to do, I do well." Severus cut off whatever Potter was going to say with a severe look. "This is the last time I'll offer my services. I'll not jump through hoops to prove my worth. Take it or leave it." 

Severus slid from the booth and stood up. His dignity, back from its holiday, straightened his shoulders and looked down his long hooked nose to where the other man sat, staring with an unreadable expression. "I'll expect an answer tonight. You can send it by owl."

Severus let the pub and the man behind and went out into the cold October air. A wholly different sort of ache wreaked havoc on his insides, but he tried to ignore it. A ridiculous feeling of loss settled in the hole the firewhisky had burnt in his stomach. Loss of what, Severus couldn't say. It wasn't as though there'd been anything but potential between them. Now, filled with a sense of his own futility, he realised the potential had never been there at all.

What had he expected, anyway? He was far too clever to ever have imagined that anything would happen between them. He'd been content to feed his fantasies with new visions of a man he scarcely knew. He couldn't say particularly what he'd seen in Harry Potter, except that he was a man with similar inclinations who incited a little more than a vague feeling of superiority that he felt with every other person in the world. Potter, rather, made him feel alive. Rageful, angry, but alive. It wasn't the frustrated and indignant sort of anger that Potter had made him feel years ago as his student. But a real, fiery rush of feeling to cut through the banality of his daily existence.

And what had changed? Nothing in particular, he knew. Except over the past few days, there'd been more than their usual mutual loathing. Nothing significant, but a subtlety that had allowed for some hope to sneak in unawares.

Damn his foolishness. Damn his obsession.

And damn Harry Potter for being beautiful, tortured and queer.

Damn his eyes for betraying every last emotion. Damn his mouth for being pink and inviting. Damn his body odour for befuddling him and making him want to be naked and rolling in it. Damn his scrawny arse and the tension in his back for making the stupid boy stretch up. Damn his t-shirt for offering up another vision to lose sleep over. Damn that streak of grey hair that always gets in his face so he has to push it back, revealing those eyes. Damn his eyes.

Damn.

"Snape!"

Damn. Damn.

Severus heard the sound of feet running toward him, but didn't stop. Couldn't stop because he was hell bent on getting away. It was killing him. Truly. All this stupidity had made him regress to the level of a lovelorn teenager, trying to sneak his way into proximity of the target of his unrequited love. He'd got _passed_ this. 

A hand on his shoulder stopped his progress. "What?" he spit, turning around quickly.

Potter stumbled back a few steps, panting to catch his breath.

Damn his breath.

"Why'd he trust you?" Potter said, in between gasping for air. 

"What?" Severus shook his head. 

"Tell me that and you can have all of it. Every last drop. Just tell me why Dumbledore knew he could trust you." He stepped closer, lowering his voice. Severus noted the passers-by smirking. "You told Voldemort of the Prophecy, I know you did. He knew it too. So why? He was obviously right, but how did he know?"

Severus swallowed hard and took a step back. He opened his mouth to tell him that it was none of his concern, while some long forgotten memory flooded to the surface. Not forgotten as much as repressed for safety purposes. He wasn't certain he wanted Potter to know, but now that the Dark Lord had been destroyed, there was no reason for him not to know.

No logical reason, anyway. Unless deep, agonising shame counted as a logical reason.

"He trusted a lot of people that no one else would trust," Snape said weakly.

"Don't give me that. He was trusting and kind, but not daft. He trusted that you were good and I want to know why," Potter said.

"Why does it matter? You said it yourself that he was right to trust me. Why do you insist on dredging up old rubbish, Potter? How is that going to help you?" Snape growled angrily. He was vaguely aware of the spectacle their bickering was creating in the middle of the busy streets, and was fully prepared to hex anyone who dared to snigger over it.

"Because," Potter said through his teeth, "it matters. It matters to me. It was the one thing I never understood and it might help me understand..."

"Understand what?" Severus spat.

"Why he killed himself for you!" Potter shouted. 

"He didn't..."

"He did. And you know it. He did it for you and me and everyone else but mostly he did it so that you wouldn't have to break your stupid vow. FUCK OFF!" Potter shouted to the swarm of people who'd stopped in the street to watch them. 

Severus stood still as Potter stormed past. Severus' professional side hid its face in shame whilst the other side of him went raging after the foolish man. As Severus' legs were longer, he caught up quickly and pulled Potter into an alleyway, throwing him into the wall and grabbing him by the collar of his cloak.

"The first thing you have to know, you wretched fool," Severus growled, "Is that he didn't die to keep me from breaking my stupid vow, as you so intelligently put it. He died so that I could keep another made years before to protect your sorry arse."

Potter stopped struggling but snorted disdainfully. "He didn't base all his trust on a sodding life debt that would have expired when Voldemort killed my dad!"

Severus sneered smugly. "No. He placed all his trust in an unbreakable vow I made to your mother upon learning that you were Voldemort's target!"

"A fine lot of good it did me! Where the fuck were you the night he killed my parents?" Potter screamed, pushing Severus back firmly.

"I was at Hogwarts, peacefully wrapped up in my delusions that YOU WERE SAFE!"

"WELL I WASN'T!"

"DON'T YOU THINK I KNOW THAT NOW?!" Severus raged. "How the hell was I to know that it was Pettigrew and not Black who was betraying your parents? I thought..." Severus stopped suddenly. He'd said too much.

Potter's face had gone pale. His mouth hung open stupidly. "You?" He looked dangerously close to vomiting.

Severus was as well. He'd gone quiet but for the raging of blood in his ears.

"You were the reason they changed secret keepers at the last moment."

Severus took a deep breath. "I only knew that there was a rat in your parents' circle," he said cautiously. "I didn't know who it was. I had my suspicions and I told Dumbledore."

"And you were wrong," Potter said breathlessly. "You were wrong and my parents are dead."

An apology would have been useless to ward off the new profound loathing he saw in Potter's eyes. It was true, of course. And now Potter had even more reason to hate him.

It had been an easy mistake to make. Even Dumbledore had been certain of it. It was only thirteen years later when Severus saw the evil little rat in the flesh that he'd realised what he'd done. All that he'd done. How completely and irretrievably involved he'd been in the tragedy that was this boy's life.

So much for good intentions.

He watched Potter walk out of the alleyway. He couldn't muster the energy to follow him. He could scarcely summon the will to breathe.

Potter wasn't around by the time Severus found his way out of the alley. He spent the remainder of his afternoon punishing any student who dared to look at him.


	3. Part 3

Harry stood purposefully before the gargoyle. "Periwinkle," he said and watched the thing lurch forward. He was through the door and half way up before it could open fully.

"Professor Potter," McGonagall said with a puzzled look. "You're meant to be with the students in Hogsmeade."

"I'm here to resign," Harry said, standing resolutely. "I'm sorry Professor McGonagall but I can't work with Snape."

The woman gave a disappointed sigh. "I guess his business proposal hadn't gone over as well as he hoped," she said.

"What?" Harry said. "What business proposal?"

McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "He told me that he was going to offer help with your snake," she said.

"Oh. That." Potter shook his head. "I don't need his help. And I wouldn't accept it if I did." He took a deep breath lest he start shouting again. "I'll send you my official resignation in the post. I'm sorry." He turned to go.

"Wait just a minute, Potter," McGonagall snapped. "You're going to sit here and tell me why it is you think you need to resign."

"I'd sit if I were you, Harry," said a familiar voice to Harry's right. Harry turned to see the portrait of Dumbledore smiling down on him. "She'll make you do it anyway. Best to do so willingly."

The sight of the old man, albeit a portrayal of the old man, set Harry's anger to boil. How could Dumbledore be so bloody stupid! It was no wonder the man didn't tell Harry the truth – that Snape was single-handedly responsible for everything bad that happened in his life. Harry'd have killed the bastard.

He should do it now. What did he have to lose?

Nothing at all. 

"Because if I don't leave, I'll kill him," Harry growled. And he meant it.

"Yes, I can see you're angry. But what did he _do_ ," McGonagall asked quietly. 

"What didn't he do?" Harry yelled. "He told Voldemort about the Prophecy. He convinced my parents to change their secret keeper – "

A slight cough broke him out of his rage. He glared up at the portrait of Dumbledore. "A small correction, Harry," Dumbledore said. "I was responsible for telling your parents to change secret keepers. I offered to do it myself."

"But you only did that because he convinced you it was Sirius," Harry argued. "And he was still responsible for their death. And for yours. And I'd be dead too if it weren't for my mother!" Harry yelled now.

"Potter, I'll ask you to stop shouting and Sit Down!" McGonagall said firmly. Harry clenched his jaw and sat in the nearest chair, his arms wrapped around his stomach.

"That he made one serious mistake, Harry, I'll grant you. He told Voldemort of the first part of the prophecy. He could have never guessed what might become of the information he gave," Dumbledore explained patiently.

"Bollocks. He knew the information would be important and that's why he told him!" Harry shouted. "He knew someone would die because of it. What did it matter that it was me or Neville or anyone else?"

"Because he was very fond of your mother," McGonagall said.

Harry frowned and then sneered in disgust at the implication.

"No, Harry. Not like that. Lily was the only one, outside of his own circle of friends, who was kind to him. They shared a talent for potions."

"He called her a Mudblood," Harry remembered. "I saw it... in a memory." His eyes flashed to Dumbledore who nodded knowingly. 

"Yes. It was a slow progression but they got passed their differences later." Dumbledore smiled. 

"But he was still a Death Eater," Harry said, unconvinced and unwilling to see anything but that. And if he'd been friends with his mum, it only made his betrayal worse. He betrayed his _friend_ and got her killed. 

Harry's face fell. His stomach fell with it. 

"I think you're beginning to understand," Dumbledore said softly. "Severus made one grave mistake. And when he'd realised what he'd done, he immediately came to me and told me everything."

Harry glanced toward McGonagall whose eyes were trained on her desk. 

"It was still his fault," he told her. Dumbledore. Himself.

"And I daresay he'll never forget it," Dumbledore said gravely. "But Harry, what you must remember, what you can never allow yourself to forget is that it was neither him nor Pettigrew nor anyone else who was to blame for your parent's death. There is only one man who holds that burden."

"Voldemort," Harry said. But he could hardly kill him again. He'd already done it twice.

"Precisely," the former Headmaster said. 

"But Sirius..."

"Oh, Potter," McGonagall sighed. "Everyone was under suspicion in those times. Even I, who knew and adored Sirius Black, was convinced of his guilt."

"And it was your mother who made the final decision," Dumbledore added. 

"Because she trusted Snape," Harry ventured. 

"Because she trusted no one where you were concerned, Harry. Not even the man she named your godfather."

"But Snape said he made a vow to her," Harry said angrily.

"Ah, he told you that, did he?"

"Yeah. He told me," Harry snarled. He glanced at McGonagall who was listening closely. Both of them turned to the portrait.

"After Severus came to me and told me about how the prophecy was interpreted, I called Lily here. Severus insisted upon telling her what he'd done. I do believe he hoped she would kill him and I must say she was very close," Dumbledore said. "I've never seen two people look so completely wretched as I had that night." The old man shook his head. "Severus wanted to make a vow to protect her, but she stopped him and made him swear to protect you instead. Which he's done, Harry, ever since."

"And that's why you trusted him," Harry said quietly.

"That and the fact that I know sincere remorse when I see it. I was the one who told him that Lily and James had been killed. Were it not for the fact that you were alive and he'd made the vow to your mother that he didn't meet the same fate. He did his duty to me and to you." Dumbledore put on a grave expression. "It would be cruel of you now to remind him of his mistakes when he's done more than anyone could expect of him to redeem one mistake he made as a boy."

Harry sat quietly in a mess of confusion and guilt. He nodded stiffly and stood up. "I need to go and..." He waved vaguely toward the door. He felt like he was going to be sick.

"I do hope you'll come back and visit, Harry," Dumbledore said. "I'd love to know how you and Ms Weasley are getting on." 

Harry groaned and left the room to the sound of McGonagall's frantic whispering. He walked in a daze down the corridor, trying to ignore the sounds of students coming back from their Hogsmeade trip. The knowledge that Snape would be with them inspired his feet to move more quickly to his classroom, his office and finally to the portrait. 

"Sodoma," he mumbled and ignored the protests the word always incited. 

He moved sullenly through his living room, opening Nagini's cage out of habit and then going to his bedroom to flop in his bed.

Once in the stillness of his room, his mind worked to sort facts from emotions so that he could analyse them and decide if he had any reason to be so damn angry. Faced with the task ahead, his mind decided to shutdown altogether and deliver Harry to sleep.

Harry didn't see Snape on Sunday morning at breakfast. He didn't bother going down to dinner Sunday night and had lunch in his office Monday morning. Monday evening found him quite clumsily extracting venom from his snake which put him in no condition to go to the teacher's lounge for coffee on Tuesday. 

In fact, were it not for his fourth year Gryffindors bewailing Snape's harsh removal of points on Wednesday afternoon, Harry might have got away with thinking Snape had stayed in Hogsmeade. He couldn't say whether he was avoiding the Potions master or the Snape was avoiding him, but it was probably for the best in any case.

It wasn't until the Thursday morning staff meeting that Harry saw the man. He looked terrible and as sour as Harry had ever seen him. In fact, Harry didn't think he'd seen the man look so bad since the days when he was still serving as a Death Eater for Dumbledore.

_For Harry._

The notion came from the sense of guilt that had been born in the Headmistress' office. Harry sat on one of the chairs and feigned interest in a stack of papers to avoid looking at the man. The silence stretched onward and Harry wished more than anything that the others would come in to break it. That Snape hadn't turned a page in ten minutes led him to believe that neither was doing what they were pretending to do.

Harry heaved a great sigh and gave up the act. "I'm sorry," he said defensively. "Okay? I shouldn't have shouted at you or blamed you... So. I'm sorry." There. He'd said it. And he meant it, mostly. 

Snape didn't say anything. In fact he didn't move. He made no sign whatsoever that he'd heard anything.

Harry watched the man awhile before growling under his breath. "I don't know what else to say."

He was spared of thinking of anything by the flood of teachers that moved into the room, just on time as usual. The rest of the half-hour was devoid of Snape's usual snarky remarks, and thus devoid of anything even remotely interesting. Neither Snape nor Harry said one word the entire meeting. When the meeting was over, Harry purposefully avoided the glare he knew he was getting from McGonagall and rushed off to meet his first class – which wouldn't get there for another half hour.

Harry avoided lunch and dinner altogether and shut himself up in his room until Nagini's whining became too much. 

"I'll do it tomorrow," he hissed at her irritably, before going to his office to stare at essays that he couldn't be arsed to read. A half a bottle of mead later, Harry slumped off to bed.

He awoke the next morning with a monster hangover and a mouth that tasted like death. Brushing his teeth only made the death peppermint flavoured and the shower did little to ease the throbbing of his head. He skulked into his office, intent on the coffee he knew would be waiting for him in the teacher's lounge but stopped at the sight of three phials waiting on his desk and Nagini curled up on the floor, resting peacefully.

That he'd noticed the phials at all was a minor miracle, but he was too stunned to find them there to congratulate himself. Nagini raised her head and flicked her tongue at him.

He frowned back. "How'd you get out of my rooms?" he asked.

"You left the door open," she told him as she unwound herself and headed back for home.

"You went to Snape?" Harry said, the thought irritating him immensely.

"He'sss good," she said, disappearing through the portrait hole.

Harry watched her go and then pushed the portrait closed, feeling the slightest bit betrayed and a little confused that Snape would have milked her without taking the venom. It was likely a subtle slap in the face on his part; and for Harry's part, he couldn't help but think he deserved it.

Feeling, if possible, even more wretched, Harry gathered the phials and set off for the teachers' lounge. Snape wasn't there. He thought momentarily about tracking the man down after he'd had coffee, but abandoned the thought in favour of descending into the dungeons.

Not that he'd know where Snape's chambers were. Luckily, though, Snape was in his office. He at least had the decency not to pretend to be surprised to see him.

"Professor Potter," Snape said coldly and then looked back down to whatever work Harry'd interrupted.

"These are yours," Harry said, stalking forward and setting the phials on the table. "Thanks for your help. I'm sorry she bothered you."

"I don't suppose I have to remind you of the dangers of letting her loose in the castle in the state she was in," Snape said indifferently.

Harry bristled, but couldn't be angry. It was true. He'd been careless and not just a little cruel for having let her get into that state in the first place. But mostly he was irritated that he'd put himself in a position to be lectured by Snape. "It won't happen again," he assured him and then turned to go.

"I'll expect you to bring her to me on Sunday." Harry was about to protest that Snape couldn't tell him what to do with his snake when Snape cut him off. "She clearly has no problem accepting my help. If you do, then I suggest you get over it. You can drop her off and I'll release her when she's no longer at risk of killing the students. As for the venom, you can do as you like with it."

Snape delivered the lecture to his desk, not even bothering to look at him. And that, more than his words was irritating. But Harry couldn't think of one logical reason to reject the help. "You can have it. I already told you that," he mumbled angrily and started to leave. "And I want to be with her when you do it!" It was the only thing he did have any say over. 

For a moment he thought he saw Snape cringe, but decided he had imagined it. He turned once more to go when Snape stopped him again. "I accept your apology," he said in a cool, low voice. "I'd offer my own, but I hardly think it could possibly be enough and as you've already said: Better not to start now or we'll be here all day." The man gave a small sneer and then went back to his work.

Harry winced under another flood of guilt. He'd tried to imagine what Snape might look like riddled with remorse, but could only manage to think of how he felt when Cedric Diggory died or when his one great fuck up got Sirius killed. He thought he could understand how it felt to have one mistake cost so much.

But that didn't help him now. It only made things worse. And just to kick him when he was down, he realised as he walked up to the teachers' lounge that he was late for class and that coffee was a luxury reserved for those who deserved it.

***

"You really don't have to be here," Severus said as he put on a pair of protective gloves. In other words, he wanted to say, please piss off.

"I want to be here. I like being with her," Potter answered and stroked the body of his snake.

Severus ignored the vision of the man's hand sliding along the thick, smooth skin and concentrated on the task at hand. He thought he should be congratulated on his show of professionalism under such conditions, but there was no one around to congratulate him and Potter clearly didn't realise what effect his movements were having. If he had the slightest notion, he would surely run away.

But Potter wasn't going anywhere. He sat firmly across the table, stroking his pet and whispering to her in words only he and she could understand. But Severus didn't need to understand them. Potter might be reading to her from a History of Magic text and it would still have the power to melt Severus' insides.

Slowly and remarkably steadily, Severus worked to relieve the serpent from that which ailed her. He might have done it for the company alone; for the chance to have someone sit across from him and whisper in parseltongue to him. He might have offered to pay for the experience and instead would be paid handsomely for his time and effort.

It was almost too perfect, really. One of those opportunities that Slytherins have wet dreams about. Not only did he enjoy the work and the work environment, he had made more money in 15 minutes than he would all week. And he was doing it all and getting off sexually more than was decent.

By the time the liquid he coaxed from Nagini ran clear, a stiff breeze might have finished him off. Were it not for the attention that the task required, he might have been quite finished already. And while he surely should have been, he couldn't manage to feel the least bit ashamed by it.

He let Nagini's head down gently and distributed the liquid into its containers. Only after he'd peeled off the gloves had he calmed down enough to actually address the man who sat watching him, absently stroking his snake.

"That'll do for a few days," he told him. "I'd say you can bring her back Wednesday evening."

"You really are good," Potter said, smiling at him. "I've never seen her so calm before."

Severus grunted in recognition of the compliment, but said nothing. After the last week or so, he'd been avoiding more than just the requisite exchanges with Potter. His obsession had begun to wane and he could only cling to the hope that the desire would follow after. It would, of course, be impossible if the man insisted staying for every one of these visits. 

"So perhaps next time you'll trust me with her alone," Snape said, hoping for his own sanity that he was right. 

"I really don't mind staying," Harry countered. "It's actually nice to watch you work. That bloke in Knockturn wasn't cruel or anything, but with you it's different. It's almost like... I dunno. Like you care, I guess." 

Severus raised an eyebrow and Potter began laughing. "Maybe not. But you're good anyway," the man said.

"You're distracting," Severus said, almost irritably. But not quite. "When you talk to her. It's distracting."

Potter's face fell. "Oh. I suppose... yeah. It's weird for you isn't it? I mean for everyone, but you especially." Potter averted his eyes and stood up. "Sorry. I hadn't considered it."

"It's not weird," Severus said. "It's just distracting." And it was distracting – incredibly arousing and distracting.

"I could stop," Potter said, not looking happy about the notion. "But I think she likes it." The man moved closer to the table and began hissing again. Severus bit his lip and made a move for his liquor cabinet. Something strong and soul calming would be welcome. 

"She says she doesn't care," Potter said in a dull voice. He snorted. "I suppose I only ever do it to make me feel better. So I can stop if you want me to."

"It doesn't matter," Severus said in an exasperated voice. It didn't. Not really. If Potter insisted on being there his senses insisted upon being attentive to him. It didn't matter one whit. "Do whatever makes you feel better." He drank back a draught of firewhisky and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"I suppose I should go," Potter said as Severus asked, "Would you like a drink?"

"I could stay for one," Potter answered as Severus said, "Well if you must."

Both stared at one another. Potter laughed and Severus poured a second glass for himself and one out for the other man. 

"She likes to rest a bit afterward anyway," Potter said and accepted the glass. "I'm sorry I didn't do this sooner. Really. You're amazing. Thanks."

"You don't have to thank me, Potter. The venom is payment enough," Severus said. It was extortion, really. Like robbing from the poor.

Harry shrugged. "It's the least I could do," he said.

Severus looked at him and shook his head before walking to sit on the sofa by the fire. Potter followed a moment after and sat next to him. 

"Your rooms are bigger than mine," Potter noted. 

Severus glanced over and then snorted. "It's compensation for living in the dungeons. In exchange for windows I get a more expansive darkness." He offered a bitter smirk.

Potter snorted. "I suppose it's not much consolation is it. It must be freezing here in winter."

Severus shrugged. "I'm used to it," he said. He'd spent the majority of his life down here, after all. And just now cold was the last thing he was feeling. The man next to him emanated more heat than the fire before him. Add to that the whisky, and Severus was feeling quite cosy indeed. 

"Could I ask you a question?" Potter turned toward him. The look of reluctance on his face did nothing to still the dread that the question invoked.

Severus looked warily and nodded. "You could ask." Whether he'd answer, and answer truthfully would be another matter.

"I only ask because I don't understand. I mean, I don't want to fight about it. I'm really just trying to sort out how it would work because nothing I've read really explains—"

"Just ask the question," Severus said.

"What would you have done if Malfoy and I were about to kill one another? How would it work?" 

Potter at least had the decency to look apologetic for bringing up the subject. Severus offered an annoyed look for a moment before shrugging. "Draco wouldn't have killed you. Nor you him. It was hardly a danger."

Potter pursed his lips and looked unconvinced. "Fine. But say under extreme circumstances we were about to kill one another, how would your vow work?"

Severus furrowed his brow and thought a moment. "I suppose I'd have to jump in the middle and hope the curses hit me," he said. "And if not, I'd be dead anyway and it would no longer be an issue."

Potter grunted softly and sipped his drink. "And what about now?"

"Now?" Severus said with a raised eyebrow. "Why would you kill him now?" 

Potter laughed. "I could name a number of reasons, not the least of which is that he's a twat, but that's not what I meant. I mean," he bit his bottom lip momentarily. "Are you still bound to protect us?"

"I vowed to protect Draco under very definitive circumstances," Severus explained, his annoyance inherent in the words. He really didn't want to broach this subject again. It would only end in bickering. And quite frankly, he didn't like to talk about it. 

"And me?" came the quiet urging from his side.

"Less definitive," Severus snapped. "Are you finished?"

Potter gave him an annoyed look, but nodded. "Sorry." He polished off what was left in his glass and then set it on the table. "I should go now," he said, scooting the edge of the seat.

For once, Severus wasn't of a mind to argue. "Bring her back Wednesday," he said instead and watched Potter stand.

"I will. Thanks again."

Severus nodded and then sipped his whisky. He listened to Potter gather his snake, hissing to her affectionately before coming back into the sitting room. "Good night, Professor," he called just before Severus heard the door to his rooms shut.

Alone again, Severus let out a deep breath and sank further int the sofa. He fought away a foolish urge to go and follow the other man, although his mind raced to think of reasons to justify doing so. He gave up on the notion when he could invent nothing believable.

***

 

"Harry! It's really good to see you." 

Harry smiled awkwardly as he was stiffly pulled into Hermione's embrace. He'd not spoken to her since... well, since before his public outing. Nearly seven months ago now. She pulled away and examined him as only Hermione knew how. Harry shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"You look – " she said, but stopped there.

"Like crap, I know," he said.

"I wouldn't say that, but... How are you?" she said as she pulled him to the table at the Muggle café they'd arranged to meet at. Harry took off his coat and hung it from the back of a chair before sitting.

"I'm good," he said. It wasn't really a lie. He couldn't say he was _bad_ precisely. 

Hermione looked sceptical and then guilty. "I'm really sorry, Harry," she confessed after a moment. "I've wanted to owl you before, but..."

"You didn't," he said, rather harshly. "It's fine," he said quickly after, consciously avoiding an argument.

"I wanted to," she repeated again, not quite looking him in the eye.

"How's Ron?" Harry asked, knowing well that he was the reason she hadn't owled him. The subject was bound to come up, so he thought he'd get it over with quickly. 

"He's... all right. The Ministry keeps him working strange hours, but I think he really likes it. Molly is as pleased as pie that Ron's following in Arthur's footsteps." Hermione smiled fondly. The smile faded when she met Harry's eyes. "He misses you. We all do."

Harry gave a disbelieving stare. Hermione was saved from expounding on what was so clearly a lie by the waitress who'd come to take their order. Hermione ordered a cappuccino. Harry ordered tea. They were silent until their drinks were brought. A sip from her cup seemed to bring her inspiration for her change of subject. "How do you like teaching?" she asked.

"It's all right," Harry admitted. "It was a bit weird to be back, you know, at first. But it got better."

Hermione nodded sympathetically. "Snape's there, isn't he?" she said a bit warily. 

Harry shrugged. "Yeah. He's... not really changed much." Harry snorted. "But he's helping me milk Nagini, so..."

Hermione's lips pursed together, but she knew better than to share her thoughts. "So you're getting along?"

Harry nodded vaguely. "I suppose so. I mean, we don't argue much." Harry considered the question again. "He's really good with her and he tolerates being around me for the venom. I let him keep it."

Hermione stared into her cup. "Are you... um, seeing anyone?"

Harry pursed his lips together and frowned. "No," he said quietly. "I don't really have time." His voice wavered a bit. He cleared his throat. "I heard that you two were finally going to get married," he said, trying to find more comfortable subjects.

Hermione looked even more awkward. "Yeah," she said. "It's not a big deal. We're not even really going to have a wedding. Just a small ceremony," she babbled quickly. "You know... family." She trailed off and began chewing on her thumb.

"I didn't expect and invitation, Hermione," Harry said, rolling his eyes. He was tiring of the awkwardness and the avoidance of any subject that might possibly hint at what was so obviously sitting like a mountain between them. "Look," he said, "I know I fucked up, all right? I know that you haven't owled me because you're pissed off at what I did to Ginny – "

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said, her eyebrow knitting in equal irritation. "It has nothing to do with Ginny. I mean we... we _all_ knew what she was doing. Ron hardly says two words to her now. No one blames you for going..." she paused a moment before deciding on "elsewhere."

"But because it was a bloke-"

"It was a shock, that's all," Hermione said defensively. "And to find out like _that_... It was just so _seedy_ , Harry. There had to be a better way."

"I liked it that way, Hermione," Harry hissed. "It may not be your way, but I liked it. It felt _nice_." Harry stood. "You know, I don't need this." He dug his hand into his pocket and threw a few coins on the table. 

"Harry, don't be so melodramatic," Hermione whispered. "You brought it up. I'm just... worried about you, that's all."

Harry snorted indignantly. "So worried you waited six months to contact me."

Hermione frowned. "I didn't hear from you either!"

"I didn't think you'd talk to me."

"You didn't even try!"

"NEITHER DID YOU!" Harry yelled, his voice finally breaking free from his tenuous restraint. The café went silent. People stared. Harry gave a quiet growl of frustration under his breath and pulled his jacket from the chair before storming out. He could hear the clicking of Hermione's heels on the concrete as she raced to catch up. He spun around when he felt her tug at his jacket. He looked into Hermione's tearful eyes and his anger faded to guilt despite him.

"Hermione," he sighed and pulled her into a hug.

"I'm so sorry," she sniffed against his shoulder. 

"Me too," he said quietly.

It was some time before Hermione drew away. She had to run, she said wiping her eyes. She promised to be in touch soon. Harry watched her disappear down the street before making his way back to Hogwarts.

***

Severus sat staring into his fireplace. His insides were a mess of burning anger and aching resentment. He was supposed to be milking Nagini tonight. But Potter had to _meet_ someone. Severus didn't have to ask what that meant.

He had a mind to offer an anonymous tip to the Prophet. He amused himself imagining the headlines: Potter on the Prowl. It would serve the twit right. Maybe he'd actually learn this time.

Of course, forethought was not Potter's forte, was it? Severus tipped back the contents of his glass which added nicely to the burning in his stomach. All of these months, for nothing. All these months of generously caring after that wretched creature and taking great pains to be not only civil to Potter but downright _nice_ , Potter was still unimpressed by him. Potter was still going out to meet people in London. To have sordid affairs with other men. 

Had he not decided to spend his Holidays at Hogwarts to help Potter with that evil beast? He had. Had he not refrained from insulting the man's intelligence any more than was strictly necessary? A thousand times! Had he not spent a ridiculous amount of time preparing an insanely complicated potion to give to the wretched man for Christmas? He had, indeed. And now he wondered if he should offer it at all.

What was the point when Potter was too thick to recognise his noble efforts?

He had a mind to call the whole thing off. To let Potter find some other able fingers to extract the venom of his beloved serpent. And if it didn't pay so bloody well, he'd do just that.

But he wasn't going to be pleasant anymore. He wasn't going to make an effort to get close. He wasn't even really attracted to Potter anymore.

Any less.

Severus poured himself another drink. It was an inadvisable drink, he knew, but he didn't care. It was Christmas Eve, after all. He was on holiday. He raised his glass to nothing in particular and knocked the stuff back. He was mid-pour once again when his ears strained to hear a very soft knock on his door.

His stomach leapt stupidly. He damned himself as a pathetic sot even as he raced to the door of his chambers. He was not at all surprised to see Potter on the other side, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt that was far too tight in Snape's opinion. He pursed his lips together into a line. "What time do you call this?" he growled.

Potter's mouth quirked into a half-smile. "Christmas?" he offered, lifting what was clearly a bottle underneath wrapping paper.

Severus grunted and turned away to hide what might have been a smile. He'd suppressed it by the time Potter made it to the sofa. Where had his fury gone? Where was all the righteous indignation? Severus glared at his whisky tumbler in accusation. Potter slid onto the sofa next to him.

It occurred to him this was the first time Potter had been there sans serpent. Which meant he'd come to see him. And damn his heart for being pleased about it.

"How was your date?" Snape muttered, the words ringing with bitterness.

Potter looked puzzled. "Oh. It wasn't... I met Hermione. It was the first time I'd seen her since _it_ happened." 

Severus looked at the boy, a profound relief settling his insides as he realised the man was telling the truth. He cleared his throat and said in what might pass for a disinterested tone. "How nice."

Potter shook his head. "Not really," he said quietly. 

Severus raised his eyebrows, sincerely surprised. "I hadn't expected Miss Granger would hold your inclinations against you," he said.

Potter grunted. "I don't think she cares if I'm queer. Just that I got caught giving head in a toilet." The man sighed and stared at the fire, for which Severus was grateful. It gave him a moment to extract his bottom lip from between his teeth. 

"Seedy," Potter said dully. "I mean she's right, isn't she?"

Severus grunted vaguely, desperately trying to rid his mind of the mental image. 

"Could I have some of that?" Potter asked, not waiting for Severus to respond before reaching forward and taking up Snape's half filled glass. He threw back the contents and shuddered a bit before refilling it. He handed the glass to Severus. "Are you all right?" Potter asked.

Snape blinked. "I'm fine," he snapped and shifted on the sofa so that he would stop melting into it. 

Potter grinned. "Been celebrating, Professor?" he said. "I've never seen you drunk before."

"I'm not drunk," Severus protested. He put the glass back onto the table as though to prove it. He was just a little tired. A little... fuzzy.

"If you don't mind, I plan to be," Potter said resolutely. "Here." He handed over the gift wrapped bottle. Severus noticed a card dangling from it. He looked at the boy who, after a moment pushed the gift into his hands. "It's not much, but... I just wanted to say thanks, I guess. For how good you've been to Nagini. And Merry Christmas." The man sat forward to collect Severus' abandoned glass and took another drink, coughing up a bit of smoke discreetly into his hand.

Severus turned his attention to the bottle. "What is it?" he asked, staring at the stuff as though it might be poison. 

"Just some Mead," Potter answered. "It's good, though." A small pause. "You don't like Mead, do you?"

Severus nodded and then set the gift aside. "Thank you," he said tersely. An awkward silence built between them, suffocating him and leaving him groping for some sort of reaction that would not leave him looking like complete arse he felt just then. "Your shirt is too tight," he exhaled and looked for his glass. He found it in Potter's hand.

Potter looked confused. The expression was strangely at home on that face. 

Looking for an escape of some sort, Severus got up and made his way to his bedroom where he stood a moment with his hands over his face, trying to find a bit of sense in the mess that was his head. It was there, somewhere, mocking him.

"Professor?"

Severus looked up. He could feel the man's presence behind him. His eyes swept the room for a reason to have come in here so hastily. They fell on the bottle on the table. Severus moved quickly toward it and then spun around to face the maddening man. "It's not gift wrapped," he said in a low voice. He pushed it at the other man as he slipped past him in the doorway.

"What is it?" Potter asked as he joined Severus on the sofa again. 

"A potion," Severus responded irritably.

"You don't say," Potter responded blandly. Potter examined the bottle in the light of the fire. "It looks like veritaserum," he said.

Severus sighed irritably. "Veritaserum is colourless, Potter. The Elixer of Clarity is blue-tinted." After all these years the brat was still wretched at potions. Severus grabbed the bottle from the boy's hand and pulled the stopper out. He held it to his nose. The smell alone seemed to clear his mind of the storm of chaos allowing his thoughts to become sharp once more. "Veritaserum is odourless. He pushed the bottle under the man's nose, this has the odour of eucalyptus which is one of its primary ingredients. Another ingredient is Naga venom, of which I now have plenty." The _thanks to you_ was left unsaid. Severus continued, finding a renewed sense of superiority pleasantly sobering. "Veritaserum, Mr Potter, has no taste and can be slipped surreptitiously into any other liquid without losing its effect. This potion, however, would be rendered useless were it mixed with another liquid." He brought it to his lips and sipped.

In retrospect, it was probably not a smart move.

"What does it do?" he heard the other man ask clearly as all befuddling spirits were neutralised in his system. A sobering shiver coursed through him. He opened his eyes and focussed on the absolute stranger sat next to him. The man was worried.

"Snape?"

All these years, he'd been sure he knew Potter better than Potter knew himself. Potter was a wretched, insolent, arrogant attention seeker who only recently caught Severus' interest because he happened to be rather attractive and given to despicable acts in public places. And now, his vision wiped of prejudice and pettiness that had acted as a merciful barrier between himself and the truth, Severus saw a man who was destitute and lonely, so desperate for companionship that he found himself visiting a man he only barely tolerated on Christmas Eve. He saw a man who'd sacrificed his entire childhood for the good of the world and for some misguided noble sense of destiny and duty.

He could see every detail of the other man. The scar which had faded since the defeat of Voldemort was as clear as an incision, just visible beneath the greying hair. The eyes, not just green but flecked with gold, glittered in the firelight. His lips were dry and parted. His breath smelt of whisky.

His nipples were hard.

"Fuck," Severus whispered.

He closed his eyes to block out the vision. It was only a sip, he told himself. He'd be back to his normal deluded self in roughly 28 minutes.

"Snape?" 

A hand lay softly on his shoulder, leaving individual finger prints that Severus could feel on his skin under his robes. Everything leaves an impression, he thought. Whatever we touch, stays touched.

"Should I get you something? Are you... all right?"

Severus laughed lightly and opened his eyes to find the man distinctly surprised. And a little concerned, Severus could see. Severus took a deep breath and explained in a low voice, "The potion divorces thought and physical senses from the affect of emotion. It allows the user to see clearly, passed prejudice. It's not painful," he assured the other, "just... eye-opening." Severus closed his eyes. "Sobering," he elaborated.

"It sounds dangerous," Potter said doubtfully. "You laughed and everything." 

Severus opened his eyes to see Potter grinning. One of his teeth was slightly crooked. He'd never noticed before. He could also see the slight thrumming of the vein in his neck and couldn't help but notice the way the short sleeved shirt hugged a beautifully moulded bicep.

"Ginny bought it me."

Severus looked up in question.

"The shirt. I don't have many muggle clothes left." He looked down and tried to stretch the shirt away from his body, showing a tight stomach and a trail of hair disappearing into his trousers.

"It is dangerous," Snape said absently. He looked up again when the shirt obscured his acutely clear vision. Potter was blushing. Severus had been caught staring.

Awkwardness, uncertainty, confusion. Each emotion washed over his face, distinct and spectacular. Severus had a private showing. He could practically hear the paradigms shifting. Normally he might be bothered by this enough to say something now that would put the boy into his proper perspective and restore Severus back into his role as untouchable, snarky bastard. But just now, Severus was mesmerised by the number of things he could discover about this man who he'd never really seen before.

Potter laughed nervously. "I think I might stay away from the stuff," he said. 

"Only if seeing what is there to be seen scares you," Snape answered. "I suspect I might regret it in about 15 minutes." His own voice sounded completely unperturbed by the prospect.

"So it wears off quickly, then?" Severus could detect a note of hopefulness in the boy's voice.

"The normal dose is a thimble-full and will last precisely an hour. I merely sipped it. It's mainly used as a meditation aid. A bit like a liquid pensieve that allows you to examine your thoughts and put them in order. I've never taken it when someone else was in the room," he admitted.

"And is it bad?" Potter said, watching Severus' face carefully. He worried what Severus might see.

Severus nodded. "You're a completely different person than you were twenty minutes ago."

Potter snorted. "So are you," he laughed. "But at least we'll both be back to normal in a few minutes."

Severus shook his head. "Not quite. I'll never see you the same again."

Discomfort, self-consciousness, worry. "How will you see me?" he asked softly, as though he wasn't really certain he wanted to know.

Severus smirked slightly. "As a human being," he laughed. Potter gave a bland look and Severus laughed again. "I assure you, it has come as quite a shock."

Potter reached over and took the bottle from between Severus' legs. Severus quit laughing suddenly. "Don't," he said, but the bottle was already to the man's lips. He glanced sideways a moment before tipping it ever so slightly.

Severus was trapped between panicking over the thought of being _seen_ and watching the man's reaction to the potion. When Potter opened his eyes, Severus stood up quickly. "Get out," he said, not looking at the man. He plucked the bottle from between the man's hands and stoppered it. He didn't want to look at him. He knew with sudden urgency that he did not want to see the man seeing him.

"Wow," Potter said softly. Severus turned sharply to see the man's eyes wide and sweeping the room. He had the look of an enthralled child who just seen the world's largest ice-cream cone. There was so much innocence and marvel in his expression that Severus had the urge to take the man by the hand and show him the universe, if only to keep that look a little longer. 

Their eyes met. Severus stiffened slightly as he watched those eyes take him in, strip him completely of all pretence. Potter wore a mostly mesmerised expression. His eyes lingered on Severus' face, shifting to take in every grotesque detail from his caricature of a nose to the stringy mess that was his hair.

It occurred to him that his sip of potion had worn off. Just as suddenly, it occurred to him that if he'd ever had a chance at bedding Potter, he'd effectively squashed it now. In Snape's history, his luck with lovers relied absolutely on their ability to overlook his appearance. "Satisfied?" Severus snapped coldly. 

Potter blinked and met his eyes again. Potter stood and walked a few steps over to him. He smiled a bit. "Do you mind?" he asked before lifting his hands to Severus' face, fingertips tracing the sharp edges that made up his collection of features. While Potter's face was so perfectly measured, every line fading logically into the next, Severus' own face jutted and cut awkwardly. Potter's fingertips brushed lightly over the gash that was his mouth.

Potter's eyes closed and Severus was fixed to the spot as though those hands kept him there. A small concentrated frown pulled Potter's face down as his hands painted a picture that his mind would see too clearly. The hands traced down over his neck awakening nerve endings that hadn't been so touched in years.

"Potter," Snape said, barely managing to put voice on the breath. One hand fell on the man's chest. Potter gasped at the feeling, his own hand covering Severus'. He opened his eyes. Severus thought he could see realisation on his face. When Potter stepped away, he was sure he'd been right.

"Sorry," Potter said. He laughed. "It is dangerous, isn't it?" He put his hand up to where Severus had touched him. "I'll go. Yeah?" Severus could see him searching his expression and was careful to keep it in line. 

"It would be advisable," Severus said in a low voice.

Potter reached out to take the bottle from the other man. "Thanks for this. I think... It's going to help."

Severus only released it grudgingly. "Be careful how you use it," he warned darkly.

"I will," the other man said, still watching Severus. Severus could see his gaze drop to focus on his mouth and for a moment, he held his breath. Potter met his eyes again and smiled a bit uncertainly. "Happy Christmas, Snape," he said and then turned to walk toward the door.

"Potter," Severus said.

"Hm?"

"What will you see tomorrow?"

Potter turned and grinned at him. "You." He left Severus to try and work out what precisely that meant.

***

The world looked different when Harry opened his eyes the next morning. He couldn't put his finger on it precisely but everything was somehow more orderly than it had been in the mess that was yesterday. The bright light streaming in from his window told him that it had snowed last night. The distinct lack of fog settled around his brain reminded him that he'd gone to bed sober for once.

More sober than he'd ever been, really.

It was a dangerous potion. Harry thought a person could go mad to have such vision constantly. He could see now that his image of Snape had previously been a series of expressions that the man mechanically put into place to appear forbidding. Having seen him, stripped to well, the man, Harry got a good look at how utterly vulnerable he really was.

Simultaneously, he knew with stark clarity how completely vulnerable he himself had been in front of Snape. The thought was disturbing at best. All his weaknesses, all his inner thoughts showing like pictures on a blank screen. He knew himself well enough to know that he did not have the control over his expressions as Snape had. He also knew that the fact that Snape was hiding so much spoke volumes about how vulnerable he really was.

It was illuminating and Harry felt almost honoured to have witnessed it and half mad for having all these thoughts streaking through his brain with such certainty. 

Dangerous, he thought. And then cringed inwardly when he recalled the intimacy of touching the man. He can't say why except that having seen him so bare, it had become utterly necessary to sooth him. To touch him. And having touched him, he'd been lost in every detail his fingers traced. 

Clearly, he'd been mad. But Snape hadn't stopped him and he couldn't quite be sorry for having been so presumptuous.

Closing his eyes now, he could still see the outlines his fingertips had memorised. The effect was slightly different than what he saw with his eyes. Snape's skin was remarkably smooth, but for the slight lines around his eyes, and the deep wrinkles around his mouth from years spent sneering. 

As he touched him he remembered thinking that his fingers would leave marks. Or impressions of some sort. Like Snape's hand on his chest had done. He could feel it for hours afterward and had to keep looking down to make sure that the skin was still skin coloured.

It had been a strange night. Eye-opening.

One thing was certain: he'd never be able to hate the man again.

One thing was equally certain: he never wanted to see him again.

That one of the most intimate experiences of his entire life had been shared with a man he spent most of that life hating did not bode well. He could only feel thankful that he'd not given into the impulse to kiss the man because who knew what sort of mess he'd find himself in today?

And where had that come from anyway?

Harry sat up in bed, resolving not to question it too much. He'd been drunk, after a fashion. Drunk on insight.

"Nagini," he called, and heard her hiss in response from under his bed. He swung his torso over, letting his head rest on the floor. "Happy Christmas," he hissed. She gave him what he was sure was the snake's equivalent of a blank look before lurching forward. Harry crawled the rest of the way out of bed and went to his sitting room to heat water for tea. 

Beside his teapot there was an envelope with Harry's name scrawled in Snape's careful script.

"Housse elf," Nagini hissed distastefully. Harry turned to see her sliding over a lumpy package of wrapping paper. More socks from Dobby, he could only imagine. His eyes went back to the envelope. A Christmas card from Snape? His stomach began to swirl nervously. Somehow, he doubted it. What was more likely would be some sort of nasty reproach for his behaviour last night and a warning to stay clear of him.

A futile attempt at protecting himself, Harry knew. 

He pointed his wand to set the water to a boil and dropped two tea bags in to steep. A second later he opened the envelope. The letter inside was an official one, Harry noted, stamped with the Gringotts seal. 

_"Dear Mr Snape,_

_We do hereby confirm the deposit of 10,000 galleons into vault 422. We do also confirm with this letter that aforementioned vault will be made accessible to Mr H. J. Potter and do hereby request that Mr Potter come to the bank during our normal business hours to collect his access key._

_We thank you sincerely for your continued business with our bank and wish you all the success and happiness for the New Year."_

Harry stared at the parchment as though the words might rearrange themselves and suddenly mean something else. Which part of 'I don't want the money' had Snape not understood? Forgetting his erstwhile resolution never to face the man again, Harry threw on his bathrobe and tore out his room, meaning to find the answer to that question.

***

Severus awoke with a pounding headache that, unfortunately was echoing on the outside as well. He sat up irritably and pulled his dressing gown from the chair beside his bed. Every step he took was agony and if the castle was not under attack, the person thumping at his door would be very sorry indeed.

He swung the door open. "What?" he growled.

"What the hell is this?" Potter said, waving a piece of parchment in front of Severus' eyes, making him dizzy. He vaguely recognised the blur of colour that was the Gringotts seal and remembered hazily the Christmas gift he offered the man.

And then he remembered the _other_ Christmas gift.

His stomach lurched dangerously. "If you don't want it, leave it there." He tried to shut the door, but Potter slid in first. He was in his bathrobe.

So was Severus. 

Severus grabbed his head and turned his back on the brat. Let him be furious all on his own. Severus had a hangover that he was quite sure was better than the alternative after last night. Severus let his robe slip off him into a puddle at his feet and then flopped back into bed, turning his back to the door.

The sound of bare feet padding into his room told him that Potter hadn't taken the hint.

"I'm trying to talk to you," the man said sharply.

"Could you possibly talk more softly? I'm trying to sleep," Snape muttered. He didn't have much energy to mind about being heard at that point. The softer he spoke, the less his head hurt.

"Look, I know you probably did this because you feel sorry for me, but I'm not a charity case. If I needed money, there's a thousand ways I could get it. I would never have got it this way. So... thank you for your kindness, but I'm afraid I can't accept it."

Severus kept his hand over his ear until he could hear no further muffled tirade. He dropped his hand to the pillow and sighed. 

"Did you hear me?"

Severus flipped over to face the stupid man. "Loud and clear. Are you finished?"

Potter's frowning face was difficult to see in the shadows cast by the dim light that Severus kept on while he was sleeping, after several broken toes from answering nature's call in the middle of the night. In this light, however, the man looked positively evil. It was an impressive sight, or would be had Severus not seen him the night previous. 

"I think we need to talk," Potter said quietly.

"Oh gods," Severus pleaded, falling back to his pillows. "Will you never let me have peace? I'm in bed, Potter. I'm hungover. You are the single last person on earth I want to see right now."

A light laugh disturbed the shadows. "The feeling's mutual," Potter said.

"I might remind you that you don't have to be here."

"And I might remind you that I wouldn't be here if you'd not gone behind my back," Potter said, doing a fair impression of a stern voice.

Severus laughed. "If ever you want to go behind my back and deposit 10,000 galleons into my vault, Potter, be my guest."

"I'd like to know what you saw last night," Potter said suddenly.

Snape's stomach sank. He closed his eyes and saw the man before him again. He could still feel the finger traces on his face his neck. His teeth scraped his lips to rid them of the tingle. "I saw you," he said, offering the same answer that had kept him up all night.

"Will you get up? Will you come and talk to me about it?" There was a hint of pleading in his voice.

"Potter, I'm not moving. All day. It's Christmas and this is where I shall spend it."

"Fine," came the angry reply. Severus was almost grateful to hear the sound of bare feet padding along his floor, until the bed dipped beside him.

"What the fuck do you think your doing?" Severus said, surprisingly awake now.

"You don't want to move. I want to talk. This is called compromising." He could just make out the whites of Potter's eyes. "Now, you're not going to scare me away with your glare and I'm not going to be impressed by your Professor Doom voice. I see through it. I also know you're afraid of me, but I want to know why you're afraid. And I'm not leaving until I feel better about what happened last night and that might take some time so we'd better get started."

Severus blinked into the darkness. He was clearly still asleep and this was clearly a nightmare. He knew this because Harry Potter was in his bed and he wasn't even remotely aroused. If he was, it would be one of those dreams and Potter would be naked. As this wasn't one of those dreams and as Harry Potter was still in his bed, the only logical conclusion was that this was a nightmare. He should wake up now.

"Ignoring me isn't going to help either."

"Riddkulus." Snape tried. But Potter was still there, still clothed.

And laughing at him. "I'm not a boggart either," he said and sniggered again.

"It was just a potion, Potter," Snape sighed. "None of what you saw was real to anyone but yourself. What I saw was only real to me."

"No. You're lying. Look, we both saw each other for what we were. You are not the terrible, evil person I thought you were and I'm not... What? That's what I want to know."

Severus growled in frustration. "You're not your father's son. All right?"

Harry scowled. "What's that mean?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to explain it, Potter. I already did. I saw you a human being and not the prick that made my adolescence hell. It's an epiphany for me. It doesn't, by any means, make you any less damnable. But it at least allows me to hate you on your own merits." 

"You don't really hate me. I can see that. If it makes you feel better to pretend, fine. But it still doesn't explain why you were so freaked out last night."

Severus pursed his lips. "Oh, I don't know. Perhaps it was the prospect of you groping me that had me a little spooked," he said cruelly. He regretted it immediately afterward. 

"I'm sorry," Potter said quietly. "You just... wait a minute. No." The other man raised himself up to lean on his elbow, looking down at him. "I was watching you from the sofa, just after I took it. And I saw you and you looked so... lost and scared and _desperate_... That's why I went to you. That's what caused it."

Damn the man's sober recollections. "I was not _lost_ ," Severus spat. "I was worried what would happen if you took the potion," he said as a safe excuse. "I wasn't frightened, Potter. I just didn't want to face..."

"What? What didn't you want to face? It was perfectly fine to have you staring at me for a half hour solid, but I can't do it to you. I was completely exposed to you. I mean, you knew what to expect. You knew precisely what you would see and you took it without telling me anything. Without asking my _permission_. And then you have the balls to try and hide from me when I want something in return? Bollocks, Snape."

"I have some modicum of self-control. You're right. I knew what to expect, so it was perfectly safe for me to have drunk. Did I touch you? No."

"Did you want to?"

"I... did I... why would... Fuck off, Potter. Get out of my rooms."

Severus dug the palms of his hands in his eyes and silently pleaded to wake up from this nightmare. 

"Can you still feel it?" Potter whispered uncertainly. 

"It's a side effect. It will go away in a couple of days," Severus said. 

"It was a really great gift, you know. I mean I was really messed up yesterday after visiting Hermione. I feel sorted now. Better."

"Lucky you," Severus drawled. 

"I think I understand why she was so upset over the news. I mean... had I told her myself, it wouldn't be so bad. But I guess she feels like she's been lied to. And maybe it's not so much that I was doing that in toilets, but that I was being secretive about it. The sneaking around. And of course, she'll never understand that the anonymity, the _seediness_ as she called it, is the very appeal of it all. But why would she understand that?"

"Potter? How much did you take?" Severus said in a low voice.

"Not much," he said. 

"How much more did you take once you left here?"

Potter's silence said it all. Severus smirked at the thought that when Potter's epiphany finally wore off, his own hangover would put Severus' to shame. 

"What do you think?" Potter asked.

"About?" Severus said, resigned to spend the next however long listening to Potter's insight on the world.

"About what I did?" Potter said. 

Severus looked over and met the man's eyes. "I think you should know better than to overdose on potions," he said, though he was quite sure he'd not get away with it. For the first time in history, Potter's mind was sharper than his own.

"Not that."

"Why do you care?" Severus countered, hoping Potter would meditate on the question for long enough to forget his own.

"I was just curious. I don't care, really. I just want to know if everyone finds the prospect utterly disgusting."

"It's something that happens all the time, Potter. The only thing that made the act even remotely newsworthy was that you were part of it." 

"Would you do it?"

"Are you offering?" Severus retorted, certain that even in his state of clarity, Potter wouldn't find an answer to that. In the silence that followed, Severus wondered if Potter were actually considering the question. "Please don't answer that," he said, just in case. "I don't know if I'd do it, Potter. I've never been in the position to know. But I've been involved in my own fair share of acts others might consider lewd. Acts that would make your toes curl," Severus said after awhile. Bugger it all anyway. A little marketing couldn't hurt. "Quite literally," he added in a low voice. 

"With men?" He at least had the decency to sound sorry for asking.

"With men," Severus muttered. 

"I wondered," Potter said.

"I'm sure," Severus answered. And then he gave that some thought. He turned onto his side, and raised himself up to look down at the other man. "How far?"

"Hm?" Potter blinked up at him.

"Precisely how far have you wondered?"

"I... what?" Potter stumbled.

Severus raised an eyebrow. "You're in my bed," he said silkily.

"I..."

"Talking about sucking men off in loos and what my opinion of such acts might be," Severus continued leaning in just a bit to hover over the other man. "What sort of messages are you trying to send, Potter." From the gobsmacked look on the man's face, it was clearly not the message Severus wanted to receive. But no matter, he'd shut the man up anyway. His hand fell to trace along Potter's face in the same light manner Potter had traced his own. His thumb scraped over the man's lips and was wetted by a darting tongue. "So what will it be, Potter? Are you looking to add another lewd act to your repertoire?" He leant in close until he could taste the quick bursts of breath the man expulsed. "Or do you think it's time for you to go?"

"If you want me to leave, Snape, you only have to say," Potter said, remarkably unmoved by his display. "Honestly, what would you have done had I accepted?" he went on. 

Severus groaned and fell back to the bed. "Suicide? Sodomy?" Severus waved his hand vaguely indicating the whole range of possibilities. "Why do you presume I wasn't serious?"

"I could see you _play_ seductive. Not a bad job of it to be fair. I mean... do you know that I can feel your voice in my _bollocks_? I suppose it's another side effect, but pretty impressive, all the same. A little disturbing, too."

"So I can see," Severus said, not just a little pleased at knowing his voice went to the man's bollocks and suddenly quite pleased that while Potter was in his boxer shorts and a house robe, Severus was safely covered by the blanket.

Potter closed his robe out of decency. "I can't imagine I'm your type at all."

Severus raised his eyebrows. "On the contrary, Mr Potter," he sighed. "You're gay, male, and half-naked in my bed with an erection. I'd say you've sufficiently met all the criteria I have for fucking someone."

There was a quick indrawn breath followed by a barely breathed _fucking hell_. "You really shouldn't say things like that, Snape."

"Then you really shouldn't utter such leading statements, Potter. Now I shall ask you to put me out of my misery in one of two ways. I will leave it to you to decide which way it will be. Either you leave me now or you show me what you learnt in the loo."

He couldn't claim to be quite surprised when the man slipped from his bed. Nor was he altogether disappointed. A little perhaps, but he'd not really hoped. Potter, for all his 25 years, was still a boy learning to be a man. It would take a little more than a seductive voice to make the young see past age and ugliness.

Potter stood by his side of the bed now, looking down at him. "Can I bring Nagini down tonight?" he asked.

"I suspect you should," Severus answered, sitting up. He swung his legs over the side of the bed. They brushed against the other man's. Severus bent to retrieve his robe. Potter stared at him. "Potter," Severus said with an agonised tone. 

"I'm really glad we talked," he said.

In the dim of the room, he could just see the man's eyes fall to Severus' lap. Severus covered himself with his robe and glared at the grin he saw lighting up the room like dawn. It had gone far enough, and Severus would wipe that smug look off the brat's face. He stood before the man, deliberately close enough that Potter could feel how close he was to being thrown over the bed and buggered in the name of all things seedy. Potter stumbled forward as Severus grabbed him by the robe and pulled him closer. He bent his head down to press his lips to the man's ear. Potter's fists held tight to his nightshirt. "Time's up, Mr Potter. Now get on your knees and put your mouth to a nobler cause."

"God, I'm going to feel that on my stomach for days," Potter said, pulling away and rubbing absently where _it_ was presumed to be. 

"I'll give you three seconds. One..."

"I can't go out there like this," Potter argued.

"Two..." Severus sat back on the bed and hiked his nightshirt up to his hips.

"Snape..."

"Three." 

"OK. I'm going." Potter turned around and walked from the room. A moment later, Severus heard the door click shut. He fell back against the bed with a low moan.


	4. Part 4

"Don't say a word," Harry said when the man opened the door. It was bad enough that he felt as though he'd had his head slammed repeatedly against something extremely hard, but that he had been plagued by humiliation since he'd got back up an hour ago was almost more than he could bear. The only thing that gave him strength to show his face was Nagini's constant whingeing and the knowledge that Snape had been as hard as he.

He could not quite meet the man's eyes as he walked over to the table and unloaded Nagini from his shoulders. He wondered if he should just go, but decided that Snape must be at least as embarrassed as he and that Snape's sofa was closer than his bed. Harry went to seek it out.

"Make yourself at home," Snape drawled as Harry lay across the sofa. The click of the man's boots on the stone resounded painfully in his head. They were getting louder. Harry squinted into the light that he was sure was brighter than normal. 

"Drink this," Snape said, thrusting a phial at him.

Harry looked at him dubiously. "I've heard that before," he said, but took the phial anyway. Sniffing at it, he recognised the pepper up potion. He could hear the telling sigh of relief from Nagini as Snape commenced his work. He downed the potion in one and let out a sigh of his own. The throbbing immediately waned to a manageable level and his head cleared of the befuddling fog that had settled here. Harry kept his eyes closed and listened to the rhythmic sounds of the venom squirting into the bowl. He must have dozed off because when he opened his eyes again, he saw Nagini curled next to the fire. Snape sat on the end of the sofa under Harry's legs. Harry peered at him a moment, trying to decide whether or not to pretend to keep sleeping rather than be tortured with comments about this morning. 

"He has your ssscent on him," Nagini accused from the fireplace. 

"I'm not going to discuss it with you," Harry countered. He'd already had the conversation when he went back to his room smelling of Snape. It was like being married all over again.

"He ssstaress at you," she hissed.

"He always has," Harry rolled his eyes. "It's like a hobby."

"I can sssmell his sseed."

"Don't be gross," Harry said irritably. 

"It's incredibly rude," Snape said suddenly, pushing Harry's legs off his lap. 

Harry used the momentum to pull himself to something resembling an upright position.

"She's not very happy with me," Harry explained. "We've been arguing all day."

"How domestic," Severus drawled.

"Are you angry with me?" Harry asked, wrinkling his nose.

"Since the day you were born," Snape answered.

Harry couldn't help but notice that Snape wasn't looking at him now. It made him feel even more wretched. "I'm sorry, for what it's worth."

Snape snorted. 

"I wasn't the only one there, you know," Harry said irritably. 

"I live here, Potter. It would hardly make sense for me to be anywhere else," Snape answered tersely. 

"You know what I mean." Harry pursed his lips.

"No. I don't. Are you apologising for being here or are you apologising for being excited?" Snape asked, turning his head now to look Harry full in the face. Without the clarity the potion offered, Harry suddenly remembered why he avoided that glare at all cost. And while he knew that it was, in some part, an act, it didn't make it any less impressive.

"Or for getting you excited. Or for not going when you asked me to. And for leaving at all. I'm just sorry, Snape. I'm sorry we're having this conversation."

"As am I," Snape said in a low voice. The voice went straight to his bollocks. Side effect, he told himself. He rubbed his belly absently.

"Ssstupid human," Nagini spit from across the room.

"Shut up," Harry hissed back.

"He likesss it when you sspeak to me. I can taste his exsscitement," Nagini goaded.

"Stop it."

"Asssk him," she said smugly.

Harry glanced at Snape and saw his jaw clenching beneath the smooth skin. He ventured a glance downward, but could see nothing beneath the man's robes. Harry cleared his throat and sat up properly. "It is rude," Harry said. "Sorry for that too."

"I only mind when I know I'm being spoken about," Snape admitted. "You could tell me what she says."

Harry snorted. "You really don't want to know."

"Or you really don't want me to know," Snape corrected with a sneer. "As I thought."

"She can smell me on you and you on me. She's not happy about it. I've even showered and she's still whingeing," Harry said, casting a glare at the serpent sitting watchfully at the fireplace.

"What's touched, stays touched," Snape said softly. He scratched his nose.

"You're telling me," Harry laughed, rubbing his stomach. He was pleased to see the other man smirk, if only momentarily. It made things better.

"She also reckons you like to hear me talk to her," Harry ventured, glancing at the man to try and gauge his reaction. _Distracting_ , Snape had called it. Harry wondered in what way. 

After a moment, Snape snorted. "What do you think?" Snape turned his head to gaze at him. Not glare, but gaze in that long seeking way that made Harry want to look away. 

He didn't really know what to think and didn't really want to think for that matter. This was Snape, former Death Eater, the murderer of Albus Dumbledore and the very reason his life had been a complete and utter hell. And if he thought at all, this would have to be taken into consideration and that would be rather inconvenient to the mood just now. 

"Translate this: My serpents will hear my call and rise as one to serve their master."

Harry blinked. "What?"

"Translate. "

Harry drew a breath to protest, but let the words come out in a sibilant stream.

"What's touched, stays touched and is mine till death."

Harry stared. "What the fuck are you playing at?"

"Just say it."

"No."

Snape's expression softened. "Humour me. It's not what you're thinking. Say the whole thing."

Harry stared dubiously but started slowly from the beginning. He watched as Snape closed his eyes, nostrils flaring as though he were breathing in the words. Has Harry breathed the last sibilant syllable, Snape let out a low moan. "Would you like to find out if she's right?" he said finally, opening his eyes.

"What was that?"

"It's from an old story about the original Naga, snake gods of the Eastern persuasion, from whom yours has descended."

"It's incredibly familiar."

Snape shrugged. "Nothing comes from nothing." 

"And that...does it for you?" Harry asked doubtfully.

"Some people go through adolescence fantasising about the great Harry Potter. I had Salazar Slytherin. You have loos, I have parseltongue. We all have our kinks," he said.

Harry snorted and shook his head. After a moment it occurred to him, "But I'm the only one left who can speak it," he said.

"Such is my cruel fate," Snape replied with a hint of a smile.

"You've been getting off this whole time!" Harry realised suddenly.

"Please," Snape said with an affronted look. "I've waited until you left."

Harry stared for a moment. " _What's touched stays touched and mine forever_ ," he hissed at the man.

"You can stop now," Snape said sharply. 

"Why?"

"Shall I show you?" Snape said, raising an eyebrow.

" _Rise as serve your master_ ," Harry said smugly.

"Potter."

 _Severus,_ Harry tried, the word not sounding terribly different in parseltongue. It glided wetly passed his teeth.

"Sstop it," Nagini hissed irritably from the fireplace. 

"Stop," Snape said.

Harry glared at the snake and then at the Slytherin. He slid from the couch and bent to take the former in his arms. "I've only ever wanted your happiness," he told her. "But I deserve a bit too." He opened the door of Snape's rooms and let her drop to the floor. "We'll discuss this later. Go home now," he said firmly and then shut the door.

Something like fear sprung up as he turned back around seeing Snape still seated on the sofa. He was at a crossroads, he knew and his decision would be final. Could he do this? 

It was looking through binoculars and seeing two separate pictures. On the one hand you had Professor Snape – a man who had made his life a living hell from start to finish. He'd always been there, even before Harry had been aware of him, glaring at him from the shadows. He'd touched every one of Harry's twenty five years. And then there was the other picture. It was almost the same, but for the small details. This Snape was slightly flawed, cracked like old porcelain. It told the history of a man who had tried and failed to make all the right decisions. A man who's path was paved in good intentions. He was still a bastard, but beneath the bastard was a man who was frightened to let anyone too close. Harry had the features of this man embedded into his fingertips. In his mind.

It was so much to reconcile and gave Harry the impression of seeing double when he took his place on the sofa again. "She's gone," he said weakly.

"You're not," Snape pointed out. 

"Do you want me to go?" Harry asked, turning to stare at the other man.

"Do you want a drink?" Snape asked, staring at the fire.

The two questions dissolved into a dense silence that sat resolutely in the four inches between them. 

"Do _you_ want a drink?" Harry asked.

"Do _you_ want to go?" Snape asked.

Both stared at the fire now.

"No."

"Perhaps," Snape said. And then, "No."

Harry laughed. "This is weird," he said as much to himself as to the other man.

Snape grunted in agreement and finally turned to face him. "Your infamous trip to the loo – was it the first time?" he asked suddenly.

Harry drew a deep breath and then shook his head. "The third," he admitted. Twice being sucked off and once getting a taste himself. Harry licked his lips.

"Was it the last time?" Snape raised an eyebrow.

Harry frowned. "I'm not an utter idiot, you know," he snapped. "Why do you want to know?"

Snape gave a long suffering sigh. "It was a subtle effort on my part to measure your level of experience," he said in a low voice. 

"Oh," Harry said quietly. It was pretty pathetic, all things considered. His stomach lurched into another turbine of nervousness. "Do you want me to go now?" he asked.

"When you have so much left to learn?" Snape intoned. He smirked.

Harry wrinkled his nose and gave a self-deprecating laugh. Snape's hand inched over to rest on his thigh. Harry spent a moment trying to pretend it wasn’t there, lest paying attention to it, would make it go away again. A moment later his own hand lay over it to trap it. It was a beginning, he thought.

"Snape?" he said after a moment. 

"Potter?" Snape answered.

"Would you mind if I..." Harry dropped his gaze to where their hands lay on his thigh. His finger traced over the tendons in the man's hand. "I mean I have these two pictures in my head of you," he began again. "And maybe if I call the other one Ssseverus," he stuttered slightly and the looked up quickly to see the man's reaction. "Maybe things will be less... strange."

The man furrowed his brow and then laughed. "I would prefer _sir_ ," he intoned.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Only if you call me _master_ ," he answered.

Severus raised an eyebrow. "You've hardly the experience to be called 'novice', Potter."

Harry glared. " _Rise up and serve your master_ ," he hissed and smirked at the slight twitch in the man's jaw. Severus' fingers flexed over his thigh. "Severus," he said, liking the feeling of the word. "Ssseverussss," he repeated, the sound nearly the same in Parseltongue. Like an echo of its English equivalent. 

"Are you toying with me, Potter?" Snape (yes, clearly Snape) said, suddenly harshly. Harry stared at him for a moment and could see, just below that cold exterior, Severus. Flawed. Human. At once, he could see the implied threat and the vulnerability which powered it. The images wove together and there was Severus Snape.

In 3-D.

***

Enough was enough. 

He couldn't possibly get any harder. He couldn't tell if the brat was playing with him, like some teenage cock tease and would only run away in the end. Again. That Potter had next to no experience didn't inspire hope for the night. That Severus couldn't manage to gather up enough courage to make the first move was ridiculous. His 45 years of experience had been distilled to nagging nervousness and an age-old fear of rejection.

He'd hated being a teenager. And he resented being made to feel like one again. 

The sibilant sound of his name in Parseltongue liquefied his insides and added them to the swirl of nervous anticipation. It brought back darkly intimate memories that he would be wise to let go of, but that served as his only memories of living out his fetishes. He might happily replace them with the less morbid experience that this night had potential to bring, but he still couldn't be sure if Potter's good sense would rear its ugly head and leave him empty and unsatisfied.

If it was going to happen, it had to happen now.

"Are you toying with me, Potter?" He stared at the other man in a moment of truth. Potter stared back. He was nervous, Severus could see, and that was understandable. With the history between them, it was a wonder they were here at all. Denying that the one image of him exists was ridiculous. It would lead to awkwardness and regret in the end. If Potter were to take him at all, he'd need to accept all of him. The good, the bad and... the rest.

Of course, if Potter were intent on pleasuring Severus, _Snape_ could be convinced to keep to the shadows. In fact, Severus could even find it in him to call the man master, if he thought it would make a difference.

It had been that long.

But the other man hadn't answered and Severus drew away his hand. Potter captured it again. "I'm just not sure how to begin," Potter said at last. 

Severus could feel his withered hope bloom again. He took a stilling breath. "How do you normally begin?" he asked quietly.

The other man grinned. "A meaningful look."

Severus met his eyes and moved slightly forward. He did his best impression of a meaningful look. "And then?" 

"And then I follow them into the cubicle." Potter smiled hopelessly and then brought Severus' hand to his lips. "Or they follow me," he said against his knuckles. "How do you usually begin?"

Severus twisted his hand in the man's own and slid his thumb across the man's lips. As the lips parted, Severus let his thumb tip into it. It was greeted by warmth and wet. It was all he needed to move in, and, with only the slightest hesitation before his mouth made contact, he began with a kiss.

It was a soft kiss, close and restrained. A brush of lips followed by a cautious press that lasted just long enough to allow them to decide if it was worth pursuing. Lips parted, faces tilted and the kiss became closer. Severus' tongue ventured forth, tasting the breath and lips of Potter. Lips closed and pressed, brushed and parted again. The trial finished and Severus' hand moved to the back of Potter's head, Potter's hand touched his face and the kiss progressed into something slightly more assertive, confident. Teeth were added and tongues were suckled, breaths were exchanged as they progressed even further. He could feel Potter's fingers twisting into the hair at the back of his head, while his own emboldened hand moved down across the taut muscles of his chest, his thumb pressing over the hardened nub of Potter's nipple.

Potter turned his head and drew a deep breath, letting it out with a "bloody hell. Nice start." Severus' lips continued to move along the man's jaw up to take Potter's earlobe between his teeth. He was rewarded with a slight hitch of breath. "So glad you approve," he intoned into his ear and he could feel the shivers work their way down Potter's body.

"Have you ever thought about this?" Potter asked, laying a trail of kisses along Severus' neck.

"Once," Severus answered after a decisive moment.

Potter pulled back to see the man's face. "Only once?" he said, frowning. 

"At least," Severus said with a smirk.

"Twice?" Potter grinned and leant in to kiss his mouth.

"Maybe," Severus allowed and then took the boy's lip between his teeth.

"A day," Potter laughed.

"Since the moment you came back to the castle," Severus confessed and then shut the man up with another kiss. It was the sort of kiss that was going places. Preferably to oblivion and out the other side. 

Lips locked and tongues twirling, Severus pulled the other man closer and was rewarded for his effort as the man deftly shifted to straddle his lap. Severus let out a low groan as Potter's hips shifted deliberately forward, sending the tight arse grinding against him. He could feel Potter pressing against his stomach. Severus' hand moved to the other man's hips, and then upward, under the man's t-shirt and over the lean back. His fingers sprawled along Potter's ribcage and pulled him downward, his own hips flexing up. Potter caught on quickly enough and set his hips to grinding. The kiss slowed as concentration took a detour south. Potter broke free at last and let his forehead press against Severus'. The man's eyes were closed, his swollen lips parted to emit a sibilant song of fluid seduction. There was no other way to think of it. Damn the brat's parseltongue. Bless him for the same.

Snape didn't know what the words meant. It didn't matter, just that Potter spoke them and that each one slithered down his spine and up into his brain, rendering him the devoted slave of any man who had this strange talent.

 _If we don't stop I'm going to come in my pants._

They were the sounds of pure power. Soft though they were, they could touch you from a thousand miles away.

_I've wanked twice today. This is ridiculous._

And all the little serpents rise as one to serve him. To do his bidding. Touched...

_If you don't touch me now, I'll die._

His forever. Mine.

_Fuck._

"Fuck," Severus sighed, stilling Potter's hips with a firm grip.

Potter raised himself up and back off the couch. Severus looked up into an expression of pure hunger. Potter pulled his t-shirt over his head, revealing a hairless expanse of golden skin. His eyes were Slytherin green. His parseltongue swept over his lips as his fingers went to unbutton his jeans. Jeans and boxers came down at once into a pile around his feet.

It occurred to Severus that he'd worshipped a lot worse in his time. He slid off the couch and onto his knees before the man.

Potter stared down at him, letting his fingers caress Severus' face. Severus caught one in his mouth and teased it with his tongue. He was pleased to hear Potter's responsive moan. Potter's hands guided him forward as Severus' hand curled around the surprisingly thick base of the man's cock. Severus heard his name being spoken. It was the only sound he recognised. And it worked on him like magic.

Dark magic. 

Severus moaned as Potter pressed into his mouth which stretched to its limits to wrap around it. He raised his eyes to see Potter's half shut and focussed on him. He could feel his face flush with a flash of humiliation at the reality of what was happening. It only served to excite him further.

Potter's hands held the sides of his face as his hips worked toward their hedonistic ambitions. Severus closed his eyes and sucked as well as was possible, making up for his lack of control with an enthusiastic tongue which could twist and twirl around whatever was offered. When his hands reached around to grab Potter's arse, the man's hips fucked with renewed fervour. Severus was repeatedly choked as the tip of the man's cock stabbed at the back of his throat allowing for only a quick gasp of breath before cutting it off. Potter's continual hissing soon stopped. His hips jerked forward and his body contracted inward. Severus' throat worked to accept the man's pleasure, staying in place as long as he possibly could as he watched Potter's magnificent finish. 

At long last, Severus needed to breathe. He pulled his head back an inch and inhaled sharply through his nose, his mouth continuing to suck away the last remnants of his submission. Potter slumped forward, resting his hands on Snape's shoulders as he panted and twitched. His knees folded, sending him to kneel in front of Severus.

The kiss that served as his reward for good service was slow. Potter's hands gripped Severus' shoulders and Severus' own made a thorough exploration of the bare skin before him. He traced the spine to the very tip. The way Potter's hips arched to urge Severus' fingers onward gave some insight as to where this evening would lead. Severus gave in to the silent plea and let his index finger slide over the dry puckered flesh.

Potter let out a breathy curse, his own hand finding its way down Severus' front to press against the hard length hidden in his robes. "You've got too many clothes on," Potter pointed out and began undoing Severus' robes. He kissed Severus as his fingers fumbled to release the tiny buttons. Severus broke away suddenly and stood to do the job properly. Potter's hands slipped underneath and slid up Severus' thighs, a single flat palm pressing onward and upward to move firmly over Severus' erection.

Severus pulled his robe up over his head and sat back down on the sofa to start on his boots.

"You should have done this hours ago. Saved time," Potter laughed and crawled forward to take up the other boot.

"I would have hated to be presumptuous," Severus answered. "You were not so eager this morning." Severus tugged off his boot, while Potter struggled with the other. 

"I was half crazy this morning," Potter said and then gave one final pull and fell backward as Severus relented. 

Severus smirked.

"Prat." But the man grinned anyway. Potter leaned back on his hands as Severus stood to commence removing the rest. He was taking longer than strictly necessary because it was amusing to watch Potter struggle to stay patient.

 _Hurry up,_ the boy hissed as one hand travelled downward to his spent balls.

Patience was never one of Severus' greater strengths either, as it turned out and soon he was as naked as the man stretched out before him.

***

He wasn't precisely a pin-up, it was true. He was pale and lanky and with far too many sharp edges. But Harry hadn't expected a model and he was less than perfect himself. Besides he gave amazing head and could manage to practically make Harry come just by talking.

He supposed they had that in common.

Harry lifted his eyes and could see Severus staring at him, his face a careful mask. Harry thought he was probably waiting for some reaction. Some sign that Harry wasn't completely repulsed. "'s about time," he chastised lightly and moved back up to his knees to finally meet this newer complete version of Severus Snape properly.

The man tasted clean, as though he'd only just recently showered and had meticulously washed himself. Harry knew with absolute certainty that Severus had been thinking of him and this knowledge sent a powerful jolt of arousal to his sleeping cock. Harry's tongue left a wet trail from base to tip before he pulled back the foreskin to expose the head. His tongue flicked at it. He raised his eyes with an open mouth grin.

Much as he'd love to finish Severus off like this, to watch his face as Harry sucked him toward insanity, Harry's confidence that he could do it was not great. He'd only ever done it once and his frantic fumbling had been abruptly brought to a halt. While he could definitely use the practice, he didn't think tonight was the night to develop technique. He didn't think his ego could take it.

He stood instead, slowly leaving a trail of kisses upward. His hand curled around Severus' cock. He felt slightly smug to know he was bigger, but he cast this petty thought away. "Bed?" he asked quietly and lifted himself to his toes to kiss Severus' thin mouth.

"How conventional," Severus drawled.

Harry could feel his face go hot. He glared. "Or we could take this to the toilets, but you might have a bit of trouble inspiring fear into your students were they to find us."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "On the contrary, my students would be quite impressed to see me being serviced by the Great Harry Potter," he said darkly.

Harry narrowed his eyes. _Slytherins_ , he thought irritably. "That's not quite what I have in mind," Harry said. He offered a meaningful look – a much better effort than Severus had given – and turned to walk to the man's bedroom. He didn't have to look back to know he'd be followed.

Harry lay down on the bed. It was darker in here then he'd otherwise have it. The room had a faint green glow to it that reminded Harry vaguely of the shadowy light the Dark Mark cast on the scene of some tragedy. It wasn't the most uplifting thought just now and Harry fought to rid his mind of it and the onslaught of doubt born of the notion. 

What's touched stays touched.

He could hear the sweep of Severus' feet on the floor and his silhouette appear in the doorway. What kind of a man gets off to the sound of parseltongue?

What kind of a man gets off in public loos?

 _Come here,_ Harry said, although he knew Severus didn't understand him. The man obeyed regardless, crossing the room and standing at the side of his own bed, his cock pointing straight at Harry.

Harry moved over allowing room for the other man. Severus filled the space immediately and turned to the side to face him. "Kiss me," Harry said.

"You're rather demanding," Severus said.

Harry smiled. _Kiss me,_ he repeated.

He could see the struggle on the other man's face before he leant over to obey. The effect his compliance had on Harry was at once exhilarating and disturbing. It made Harry wonder if this was how Snape had been seduced to the dark side to begin with. If perhaps his spectacular fall had started with whispered seduction. Had Voldemort had the same effect on Snape as Harry apparently had?

"What's wrong?" 

Harry blinked, realising he wasn't being kissed anymore. "Nothing," he lied too quickly. He reached over and pulled Severus' head to him, kissing him too tenderly on the mouth as he tried to suppress the questions in his head.

It didn't matter now, he told himself. Voldemort's power, such as it was, did not keep Snape loyal. Whatever dark pleasure Snape had or had not gained from the Dark Lord's forked tongue, it had not been enough to win his allegiance. But how literal had that pleasure been? 

He didn't really want to know. And it didn't matter because Voldemort was dead. And without Snape's efforts, it wouldn't have been possible. And that's what happened to people who misused their power over others. 

Harry would never be so careless.

Harry's hand slid down to wrap around Severus' cock. "Tell me you want me," he said in a low voice. His eyes sought Snape's in the dark. He could just see them, darker than the shadows they were surrounded by. 

Severus took a shaky breath as Harry stroked slowly, just enough to make him want more. "I want you," the man said, his voice low and vibrating over Harry's skin. Severus' fingers dug into the skin of Harry's arse. 

Harry shifted his leg to drape over Snape's slender hips. He shivered as those fingers found their way to his entrance, prodding at the tight flesh. It would be his first time, but he'd had put enough up his arse in moments where boredom and curiosity collided, that he knew more or less what to expect.

He expected brilliance.

_Do you want to fuck me, Severus?_

"Gods, Potter," the man said, arching his hips to get more from Harry's hand as he reached over to grab a jar that sat on his nightstand. Harry released the man and watched him rub the stuff over his erection. Severus pulled himself to his knees. "Turn over. Put your hands on the headboard," he said.

Harry obeyed quickly, raising himself to his knees and curling his hands over the edge of the wood. He could feel Severus' slick hand slide down his back, a finger stealing between the cheeks of his arse and circling his hole. An arm wrapped around his chest and he could feel Severus' lips press against his shoulder. "Tell me you want me," Severus said, his voice like cool silk.

"I want you," breathed Harry.

The finger stabbed inside him suddenly. Harry's hands clenched around the headboard. 

"Say it properly," Severus said – commanded really, far better than Harry ever could.

 _I want you,_ Harry breathed shakily. The finger probed a bit deeper before slipping out. Harry felt Severus move directly behind him. He arched his hips back as he felt the slick erection slide between his cheeks.

"Tell me what you want." 

Harry whimpered as the organ in question positioned for entry only to slide again upward. _I want you to fuck me,_ he answered. "Now," he growled. _Please._ The tip took aim once more. _Severus,_ Harry pleaded.

Severus pushed forward forcefully, stabbing passed the resistant muscle into hot, silky insides. He could hear Potter's choked gasp and echoed it with his own. How many times had he thought about this? Severus leant his head between the man's shoulder blades and gathered the strength to plunge again, pulling Potter's hips back as his own slammed forward.

It was exquisite. More perfect than he could ever have imagined it because it was real. Months spent fantasising had culminated here: tight and deep within the body of the world's last parseltongue.

At last the gods had smiled upon him.

He began rocking his hips, intent upon enjoying it before the punch line came. Potter's low moan encouraged him onward and perhaps if he could just keep the man busy long enough, Potter wouldn't have time to realise what he was doing. Severus reached to take the man in hand, but Potter had beaten him to it. Severus' hand closed over Potter's own and slowed his frantic movements so that they complemented the steady movement of his hips.

_Severus._

Severus closed his eyes as the sound washed over him eradicating all thought beyond _yes, my Lord._ And now he was safe to allow himself to be so affected. His hips gained momentum and Potter's hand disappeared in favour of reaching back to urge them on.

"Oh, god. Just there," the man groaned. _Just like that. Don't stop._

Severus opened his eyes and focussed on the down turned head, the hand that now was braced against the wall, the pale back stretching before him tensing with the effort of arching his hips just so, just there. And there again. The room filled with the sound of breaths and hisses, low groans and careless curses. His thrusts came shallow and his hand sped up as he moved recklessly toward climax. He could feel Potter swell in his hand and squeeze around him, coming with a shout. Relieved of duty, Severus drove onward, slamming inside the man in deep fast strokes until he added his own shout to the echoes in the room. His arms encircled the other man, brought him against him as he continued to ride the waves of climax until the last dying twitch.

He pulled them both to lie upside down on the bed and curled around the other man. He couldn't stand to let go just yet. Who knew what would happen next.

"That was incredible," Potter whispered. "We should do it again later," he said.

Severus stayed silent a moment trying to tell himself that it wasn't precisely a promise and that Potter might change his mind when the afterglow wore off. And if he did, Severus would still have this night to revisit.

He tightened his embrace around the other just slightly and kissed the back of his neck. "If you insist," he whispered back.

***

Severus.

Snape.

Severus. Harry opened one eye. Then closing the first, he opened the other.

Snape. 

Severus Snape. The two shifting pictures became one. 

Severus.

"What are you doing?" 

Severus Snape looked up from his paper and stared at the man on the sofa next to him.

Harry smiled. "Nothing. Why?"

"You're staring," Severus droned. "I would have thought you'd have work to do," Severus said, raising an eyebrow. 

"Well, yes. But we have to stop sometime," Harry laughed and then laughed harder when he saw the careful mask crack a smile. _Right, Severus?_ he teased wickedly.

The man glared hard before flicking his paper dismissively. "Yes, master," he muttered from behind it.

Harry went back to the letter he'd been composing.

_The two images just shift together. Like layers._

_I'll always be Harry, your mate. But there's this other part of me that needs to be there to complete the picture. I know it's a lot to understand. I only hope that for now, you can just accept it._

_Anyway, congratulations on the newest addition to the family. I wish all of you all the happiness in the world. God knows we've earned it._

_Give my regards to your mum and dad._

_Sincerely,_

_Harry_

Harry looked up again at Severus and then at his fickle familiar dozing on the ground at Severus' feet. It was, admittedly, a lot to accept. 

"You're staring again," Severus droned.

"Maybe I just like looking at you," Harry said.

"Paint a portrait," the man growled. "It's distracting."

Harry grinned, setting his letter aside before shifting forward. "How distracting?" he purred.

"Harry," the man said in a warning voice.

_Severus._

"Don't start that again."

Harry leant in and kissed the man's forbidding mouth. "Maybe I will get a portrait done. Of the three of us."

Severus snorted and then finally put the paper aside to let Harry onto his lap. Harry reached down to gather the coiled snake. _One big happy family,_ he hissed.

***

Severus stared up at the portrait above his fireplace. His portrait self sat reading, holding a book in one hand and stroking the head that lay on his lap. A serpent lay coiled on Harry's stomach.

It was a picture of perfect contentment and it pleased him to know if all went pear-shaped one day, that he'd still have this portrait to remind him that miracles were possible. And that he was happy once.

A slight tickle at the back of his mind called his attention. His ears strained to catch just the faintest sound coming from the next room. Severus rose from the couch and glanced up once more to see his portrait self smirking at him. The portrait of his partner raised his hand to caress the back of his head.

He turned to see Nagini slithering out of the bedroom. He felt certain she was cursing at him. He sneered back as he passed her. The bedroom light was off, leaving a dim golden glow that lit the floor beneath his feet. He instinctively looked to the bed, and seeing nothing looked toward the bathroom, where Harry stood in the shadows.

Severus raised an eyebrow.

Harry licked his lips before retreating back into the room behind him.

Severus followed.


End file.
